


Book Club

by Sophia_Bee



Series: Charles and Erik: Book Club Fics [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles You Slut, Charles is Cheeky, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Porn With Plot, Sex Positive, Smitten Erik, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-03
Updated: 2014-10-06
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:10:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2396231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophia_Bee/pseuds/Sophia_Bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles finds his values compromised at book club by Sex on a Stick in a Turtleneck, aka Erik</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Charles likes to fuck. He likes to be on all fours, pounded hard, on his knees, his mouthful of cock, fingers deep in his ass, entirely fucked. He likes tongue and teeth and slicked up cocks rubbing against each other. He likes to come, to let his body take over, to feel that moment when he knows there is no stopping the orgasm that's going to rip through him. He likes it a lot.

Some might call him a slut. He just calls himself easy. It doesn't take much for him to get off and he's not particular about who can bring him pleasure. He’s a grown up. He uses condoms. He gets tested. Nothing wrong with doing what feels good.

"Don't you want to fall in love?" Raven asks one night as they're sitting on his couch together during one of their regular movie nights. She’s curled up in the afghan their nanny had made for them eons ago and Charles is perched on the cushion next to her balancing a bowl of popcorn on his lap.

"I don't fuck to fall in love," Charles says as he shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth then licks his fingers suggestively, causing Raven to frown and chuck a throw pillow in his direction, declaring him gross and reminding him that he’s talking to his sister. "I fuck to fuck."

"Huh," Raven huffs as she contemplates Charles' words, her face screwing up as she tries to make sense of sex without love. "You can keep it all separated like that?"

"Yeah," Charles says confidently, "never been a problem."

Famous last words Xavier.

He didn't go out to fuck as often as one might think someone so sexually enlightened might. Charles actually does have a life outside of sucking off random men and being sucked off by them in return. There are lectures to write and papers to grade, movie nights with his sister, Thursday night book club and other various social occasions. Still, he manages to get out often enough, efind someone to fuck, blow off some steam and gather some new wank material for another couple weeks.

"I have reasonably active libido," he tells Raven.

"What if they don't want to fuck? What if they want to do something horrible like talk or take you on a date" she asks, grabbing the bowl of popcorn from him. Charles cocks an eyebrow at his sister.

“Everyone wants to fuck,” he says. It's a universal condition."

That comment would come back to bite him the ass. Actually, it wouldn’t bite him the ass at all, no matter how much Charles wanted to be bit. It would sit on the edges of his consciousness and torment him.

The day of reckoning comes in the form of book club.

It’s a small club, a few of the professors in the department who get together to indulge their secret love of young adult fiction. After teaching Shakespeare and Chaucer all day, sometimes the only thing Charles really wants to do is sinking into his fourth re-reading of Hunger Games. Turns out he’s not the only one who wants to soothe his overactive brain with dystopian angst, so the YAF Book Club officially formed. They even made t-shirts. That had been Hank’s idea.

Sometimes Charles wonders what his students would think or if they just picture him sitting around in corduroy patched tweed jackets smoking a pipe and waxing poetic about the impact of Jane Austen’s early works. He thinks they would find it amusing that their professor ditches his cardigan in favor of reasonably tight jeans and a plain black v-neck tee, tucks his dog-eared copy of Divergent into his satchel and grabs the cheese plate he’d prepared earlier off his kitchen counter on his way to Professor McTaggarts condo. He’s running late and he wants to be able to get at least a glass of wine before Moira cuts everyone off. A room full of tipsy English professors has proven to be problematic in the past so she started imposing limits, always the mother-hen of the group.

Charles rings the buzzer on Moira’s building then stands in the cold, shifting his weight from foot to foot, wondering why it seems that winter has already arrived when he was sure they’d just said goodbye to summer. He’d already students running from class to class in their requisite uniform of flannel pajama pants with their ratty-enough-to-be-hip thrift store wool coats and scarves up to their ears. He briefly thinks that something really should be done about global warming, then moves on to whether or not Hank will bring those delicious puff pastry things tonight, and he really needs to ask for the recipe. In his head he hears Raven’s voice, telling him that he might like food just as much as sex. Charles doesn’t quite agree, but she may have a point.

The buzzer sounds and the lock on the door clicks, and Charles pushes his way into the lobby, letting a cold gust of wind blow a few leaves across the marble floor, then heads to the elevator. As the elevator slides upwards he thinks that he’ll have to fake his way through the fifth chapter, since he’d been distracted by watching porn that night and watches the numbers tick towards the 6th floor. The elevator doors slide open and Charles walks down the worn carpet of the hallway towards number 608. When he gets to Moira’s door, he lifts his hand and knocks, a short, jolly sort of rapping that announces that the youngest, most British-ish member of the faculty has arrived. Charles smiles as the door swings open,about to say something about hoping some wine is left when he realizes that the person he’s greeting is not Moira McTaggart after all. Not unless Moira has grown a few feet, is deadly handsome with grey-green eyes, a chiseled jawline and has decided to smell much, much more manly than she usually does.

 _Hello, stranger_ , Charles thinks and suddenly he’s looking the man in the doorway up and down, taking in his black turtleneck and his slim hips, glancing at his groin, wondering what pleasures lurk there, and for godsake Xavier, you’d not in a goddamn gay club, and he wills his cock to stand down.

His love of fucking and his love of books collide in one blinding moment and Charles finds his mouth is dry and he’s casting about for something to say that doesn’t go along the lines of, ‘want to fuck in the bathroom, I’m sure Moira won’t mind,” and holy shit is the man in front of him hotter than hell.

“Book club?” the man asks, sounding amused, and Charles realizes he’s standing there with his mouth hanging open, and he really wants to grin mischievously and say no, I’m just the online hookup you called for a quick shag, didn’t you, right, but if you didn’t call me, we can do it anyway, really...but that might actually seem a little forward. Luckily Charles is saved by Moira, who is pushing her way past the exceptionally handsome man in her doorway and is grabbing Charles by the arm, pulling him inside and past Sex on a Stick in a Turtleneck, and he thinks he hears her say something along the lines of, “Oh, that’s Erick. He’s visiting,” as he turns his head and tries to keep staring at the man who is now just shy of openly laughing at him.

For the rest of the night Charles tries to find the balance between serious evaluation of the dystopian themes and how they apply to the modern day problems faced by youth in the United States and whether or not he should purposely bite his lower lip while gazing across the room at Very Handsome Erik, who seems to have some sort of incredibly sexy accent making him even hotter.

Unlike a gay bar, which is a seething hotbed of men all looking to get it on, book club does not lend to easily reading someone else’s intentions, so it takes Charles a few stumbling attempts before he finally gets Erik’s attention by brushing by him during a break and leaving his hand on his bicep just a little too long in order to, ahem, stabilize himself, because he’s SO, ahem, tipsy from the half glass of wine he’s drunk, and surely Mr. Very Handsome Erik will not be able to resist Charles’ blue, blue eyes. _Blink._ He’s rewarded with a sideways glance and an audible hitch in the other man’s breathe. Charles feels his cock start to grow hard as he makes his way to the snack table and stares at the the plates, not really seeing any of them, hoping that one Very Handsome Erik will come up behind him and brush up against him, press along his back, grind into him. Because grinding always happens at book club. Instead Charles just stands there, staring, looking a little lost, then pulls out his phone and texts Raven.

-I’m going to get fucked at book club.

Charles grins as he thinks at how scandalized his sister will be and hopes she gets his text soon. He grabs a couple of Hank’s puff pastry things, then turns to find Erik is hovering very, very close him. At that moment his phone dinks with Raven’s text back. Charles looks down at his phone and smiles as he reads what his sister has written back.

-for godsake Charles. First rule of book club.

“Something funny?” Sex on a Stick in a Turtleneck asks, smirking a little, his eyes looking at Charles’ face then glancing down his body, and Charles feels heat rising up his chest.

“Inappropriate Fight Club reference,” Charles says, feeling both awkward, like a boy who likes another boy, and wondering how Moira would feel about him using her large walk-in hall closet for a quick fuck, leaving the bathroom freed up for guests. Erik smiles. It’s a nice smile. “So, uh, you’re visiting…” Charles stammers, picking up one of the puff pastries and shoving it in his mouth. He likes the way Erik’s eyes watch his mouth as he chews, and damn these are good. He really needs to get this recipe.

“I’m considering a position at your university,” Erik says almost too casually, as if something wild lurks under those words, “I”ve been at Trinity in Dublin but thought I might come to the states. Moira offered to show me how your faculty spends their spare time.”

“And,” Charles says, leaning closer...ever so closer, and he can smell that deliciousness that had met him at the door. Charles wants to close his eyes and sniff Erik up and down and back up again. “what do you think. Do you see anything you like?” If he wasn’t so entranced by the man in front of him, Charles might actually wince at how awful that double entendre was.

A flicker of a smile crosses Erik’s lips as he registers what Charles is asking.

“Yes,”

It’s takes a huge effort for Charles not to blurt out that he has condoms and lube and if he doesn’t mind ducking out for a moment, there’s a nice dark alley with their name on it, and really, fuck me against the wall. _Please._ Instead he huffs out a breath, not really knowing what to say that isn’t going to get him into trouble.

“Are those puff pastries? I love Puff Pastries," Erik says, looking slightly wicked. He picks one off Charles' plate and bites into it. Charles swallows then realizes that the man in front of him has made an even worse double entendre, maybe one so bad it doesn’t even make sense. Charles has no words left for how much he loves this, except one and he's horrified as the word _adorable_ bubbles up from somewhere. He might seriously be in trouble here.

Erik moves away from him, saying something to Hank, and Charles is standing there, staring. Sex on a Stick in a Turtleneck has got some game.

Fuck. He pulls out his phone again.

-I may have to abort.

-why? I thought you were going to make book club history.

-ha

Charles decides he’s not going to be distracted from his goal. Erik is handsome, hot, his ass is quite delicious and Charles thinks he’ll make some most excellent wank material. No need to pass any of that up just because the man is also cute. And funny in that way that fellow geeks are funny. And _adorable_. There’s that damn word again. For a moment Charles wishes this wasn’t book club but that they’d met at one of the downtown bars, where it would be clear what they both wanted, and they could get down to business without all these distractions.

Moira rings a little bell she keeps on a side table and that means the break is over in about five minutes. Charles glances around the room until he spots Erik’s tall, lithe figure, and watches as he sidles up to Moira and bends to say something close to her ear. Charles wishes it was his own ear Erik was whispering into, preferably something quite dirty. He bites his lip, this time not on purpose but out of habit because he’s starting to get distractedly turned on. Charles’ eyes follow Erik has he slips out of Moira’s door and that’s his cue to spring into action.

The second half of book club might be missing two participants. That is, if Charles gets lucky. He smoothes a hand over his usually unruly hair, licks his lips and heads towards the front door and after Erik. When Charles steps into the hallway he sees Erik at the other end, standing by the elevator.

“Wait!” Charles yells and he sees Erik smile, this time it’s a huge smile full of teeth, not a mild smirk of amusement, and it makes Charles want to say something to Erik like, I had no idea you’d be that happy to see me. The elevator dings just as Charles arrives to stand next to Erik. They glance silently at each other then step onto the empty elevator in front of them.

Charles isn’t sure he what he should say once the elevator doors close because this isn’t quite the way he’s used to picking up hot guys but it turns out that he doesn’t have to say anything because the moment the doors shut and the elevator starts to slide towards the lobby, Erik is pushing the stop, turning and pushing Charles back toward the wall, pinning him with his weight and his mouth is on his in a crushing kiss.

 _Holy shit fuck me_ , Charles thinks, or maybe he actually says that aloud, because he’s suddenly entirely off his axis, head spinning and he’s not sure which way is up or down. His hands are scrambling for purchase as Erik’s thigh slips between his. Erik’s tongue is pushing into his mouth, tangling with his tongue and his hand are coming around Charles’ back, pulling him closer, so much closer, and Charles can feel the press of Erik’s hard cock and it’s all just short of entirely too much.

“Shit,” Erik mutters, his lips pulling back just incrementally from Charles’. His breath is hot on Charles’ face and he smells so damn good, and….

“I have condoms,” Charles says hurriedly. “And lube,”

“What?” Erik asks, pulling back a little further, “Did you think...we would, um….”

Charles cocks an eyebrow at Erik, who is looking increasingly confused.

“Isn’t that what we were doing up there” Charles asks, “um, wasn’t that foreplay?”

“We were flirting.” Eriks says sounding exasperated. “I didn’t once say I wanted you to be an anonymous fuck in the lift.”

Charles can’t think of anything to say to that. Suddenly the game has changed and he’s not sure what his next move is. He’s not even sure if it’s a game anymore. After staring at Erik for what feels like an eternity, he finds his voice, only to stammer out one mild plaintive word of protest, or maybe it’s just pure begging, and he thinks it might have come straight from his aching cock.

“But…”

“I’m not interested in a quick shag,” Erik says and Charles almost smiles at his use of British slang. Maybe he’s spent some time in Charles’ other homeland, and maybe they can find that out over dinner or something, then Charles wants to open his head and shake his brain for these types of unbidden thoughts. He really should redirect the conversation to something more appropriate, like how much he’d like Erik balls-deep in his ass, and he’s pretty sure he could lower his lids and run a hand up Erik’s chest and distract him from whatever damn moral code he seems to be operating under, but instead he just asks him a simple question.

“Well, what do you want then?”

You are, after all, a modern gay man, Charles wants to add, and if you don’t want to fuck, what is it that you want to do. Should we run through fields of daisies or something. _Really._

“A date?” Erik says, grinning as he takes in the look of shock Charles is directing his way. Charles freezes because he realizes that me might be fucked in an entirely different way than he’d ever expected.

Damn book club.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles continues to attempt to seduce Erik. Raven laughs at her ridiculous brother. Erik sticks to his principles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally lied. This will be more than one chapter.

Raven is laughing at him. She’s lying on her couch that sits in the middle of her cavernous loft studio, holding her belly and spewing out loud guffaws.

“This is not funny.” Charles says, feeling annoyed as he paces in front of her. “Seriously, Raven.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Raven gasps, wiping at the tears running down her face, “it’s just not...not really a problem most people have.” She starts to shake with laughter again and Charles rolls his eyes.

“This is serious,” he tells his sister, “he didn’t want to fuck me. We were there, elevator stopped, pretty much the plot of some of the porn I’ve watched, I had condoms and lube in my pocket, and he said he wasn’t going to fuck me.”

Charles is majorly flummoxed at this turn of events and his sister will not take him seriously.

“So, he rejected you?” Raven asks, finally able to stop laughing, her lips twitching as she tries to keep her face serious. Charles looks a little embarrassed.

“Not exactly.” Raven is looking at him waiting for more information and Charles struggles to find the words, then decides to just admit it quickly, and the word come rushing out, “he asked me out on a date.”

“A DATE?” Raven falls back on the couch, laughing again, “oh Charles, you are so screwed. I mean, you’re not. You’re not screwed at all. HA!”

Charles is torn between leaving the room or waiting for Raven’s waves of laughter to be over. He decides to wait it out and looks around for somewhere to sit, moving Raven's welding torch to sit on one of the worn chairs across from the couch and watches her, chin resting on his fingers in his best Professor X contemplative pose. Finally Raven stops laughing and looks at him, wiping more tears away.

“And, did you accept?” Raven asks.

“Yes,” Charles says tightly. Raven’s mouth twitches a little but she manages not to start laughing again.

“And when is it? This Date?”

Charles swallows again, then says quietly, “um, tonight.” He winces, prepared for more laughter.

“Brother!” Raven practically shouts, “you should be getting ready, not hanging out here with me.”

Charles gets up and walks over to his sister, leans down and kisses her on the cheek. “you’re right.” he says, “I love you Rave.”

In the cab back to his apartment Charles decides that Mr. Very Handsome Erik _oh-my-god-I-don’t-even-know-his-last-name-if-we're-going-to-date-shouldn't-I-know-his-last-name_ is not going to win this one. Charles is going to present himself at this date as entirely irresistible, so when he gets dressed he doesn’t just put on his usual tight jeans, he pulls on his very tight Fuck-Me jeans. He picks out a shirt that he knows shows off the contours of his slim chest in an nice manner. He decides he’ll put on his most expensive Going Out cologne. By the time he’s done he’s sure that dinner won’t be lasting very long, because he is entirely too inviting to resist. Nice work, Xavier, Charles tells himself in the mirror.

Erik had texted him the address of some popular recently reviewed restaurant Hank had recommended and said he’d meet him outside. Charles decides he’ll arrive early so he could greet Sex on a Stick when he arrives and start working his charm right away, except Erik is already standing there, tall and so incredibly handsome. Charles decides it might be better this way because now he can pause for a moment and look Erik over without abandon, taking in his broad shoulders, slim hips, very nice ass. Charles licks his lips and his cock tingles a bit, and he thinks the universe is entirely unfair to conspire to force him on a date with this man when he really should be having the best sex of his life with him instead.  _Meh._ Charles almost whines out loud. Then it occurs to Charles that Erik has arrived even earlier than him and there’s something kind of awkward and sweet about that, and right after that Charles decides to banish that thought entirely because anything entirely _adorable_ that Erik does is just distracting. And there’s that word again.

Charles presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose and shakes his head then walks up to Erik and the other man’s face is engulfed in that same huge toothy smile from the other night when he sees him, and Charles feels his heart skip a beat. He ignores his telltale heart and concentrates on how yummy Erik looks. He’s wearing another turtleneck, which makes Charles want to pull down the neck and lick the skin there.

“Hey,” Erik says in a low intimate rumble as Charles sidles up to him, as if he’s happy to see him. Charles stops a little too close than is socially acceptable, almost brushing up against the taller man. Close enough that Charles has to tilt his head up invitingly to return Erik’s greeting. He sees a brief flicker in the other man’s eyes.

“Hank loves this place,” Charles says, keeping his tone casual, like he's just having a conversation and no, I'm not really trying to convince you to fuck me. Really. This is a stealth operation. “He actually put a review in the department newsletter.” Charles hears Erik huff a little ‘gufaw’ at this revelation.

“I have reservations,” Erik says politely, and Charles isn't quite sure if he means he has reservations about this date or about not fucking him in the elevator and then he realizes that Erik means he as reservations at the restaurant. Charles smiles and leans in closer then decides to be bold enough to loop his arm through Erik’s. He’s surprised when the other man doesn’t pull away but actually pull’s Charles closer until they are flush side by side, and Charles contains the urge to lean his head onto the shoulder of the tailored wool coat Erik is wearing and nuzzle him. _Nuzzle._ Almost as awful an urge as the constant adjective of adorable that seems to accompany most thoughts about Erik. Goddammit. Erik looks down at him with a bemused look on his face.

“You’re funny,” Erik says, sounding mildly amused, as if he’s enjoying this dance of seduction that is becoming increasingly awkward, a comedy of errors of Shakespearean scope, and Charles feels mildly irritated because he’s pretty sure irresistibly-sexy-fuck-me-now is what he’s going for, not funny. My god, he thinks to himself, I am not the comic relief here, I am not Bottom from Midsummer Night's Dream. Well, he corrects the thought, I actually am. A bottom. Charles smiles to himself. Maybe he is funny after all, then he corrects himself. Not funny. Hot. Seductive. That’s what he’s aiming for.

They leave their coats with the hostess and are led to their table. It’s standard high-end dining with a white table cloth and flickering candles. Erik politely pulls out a chair for Charles and Charles would normally find this type of formality archaic but when it’s being done by Mr. Very Handsome Erik wearing his Fuck-Me turtleneck, it seems, well, adorable. Charles wishes he could text Raven and tell her he’s drowning big time here. This date is entirely out of his control.

They order, then they talk. Charles curses the art of conversation as he tells Erik about growing up in a mansion, in upstate New York, about having tutors and ending up going to University much earlier than most kids his age. He tells him about how it’s sometimes hard to be one of the youngest members of the staff in the English Department, especially because sometimes, at 28, he’s not much older than some of his students.

Erik listens as if what Charles is saying is the most interesting thing he’s ever heard and Charles thinks that this is a man who wants to Date and it seems he is taking being on a Date to an art form. He finds himself relaxing into the conversation, laughing at Erik’s little asides, asking him what it was like to grow up in Germany when he finds out that’s where part of his accent hails from. Their food arrives and Charles entirely forgets to eat his entree in a suggestive manner as he had planned. _Dammit, Xaviar, stay focused._

By the time they reach dessert, Charles has remembered what his goal is and why he agreed to this ridiculous date. He choses creme brulee and it arrives with it’s glorious browned sugar crust. Charles takes a spoon, cracks the sugar, picks up a piece, places it in his mouth, then proceeds to lick his fingers while at the same time moaning a little about how delightful his dessert it. It actually is delightful and he thinks to himself that he needs to thank Hank for the recommendation, and promises himself not to mock his future reviews in the department newsletter. Erik, who has been watching this entire display with careful eyes starts to finish his thought about the relevance of William Carlos Williams' works, since he has a small love a American poets on the side, but he stumbles over his words a little and this emboldens Charles who then licks his lips.

“Shit,” Charles hears Erik hiss. _Jackpot. Bingo. Got him._ Now just to reel him in. Charles moves his leg towards Erik and brushes them together, enjoying the way the other man jumps, then he digs his spoon into the custard and places a spoonful in his mouth, closing his eyes to savor its richness, attempting to look as debased as possible.

“I’m not going to fuck you, you know,”

Erik’s voice causes Charles’ eyes to fly open and he glances around, wondering who heard this proclamation. Charles swallows his creme brulee as Erik’s words register, and his face must have betrayed the sudden surge of disappointment that wells up because Erik leans forward, closer to Charles and whispers the following,

“I mean, I AM going to fuck you. But not now. Not this way. And when I fuck you, it will be hard and we’re both going to love it.”

Jesus-effing-christ, the man is hot. Charles gulps. This might be the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to him in his entire life and he’s not even having sex. His cock starts to tingle as he stares wordlessly at Erik, who is taking a bite of his dessert almost nonchalantly. The man is evil. And incredibly sexy. Evil sexy.

“Um,” Charles says shakily, “If you’re not going to fuck me, that did NOT help anything.”

Erik arches an eyebrow at Charles as he takes another bite, “Sorry,” he says, “I just want to make sure we’re clear because if you don’t want to do this my way, we might as well be done.”

“No,” Charles says reflexively. “I mean, I don’t want us...this...to be done.”

There’s that smile again and Erik tells him that he feels exactly the same way.

“Then we need to talk,” Charles says, putting down his spoon, “because this isn’t exactly what I had bargained for when you asked me out.”

“Good lord man,” Erik says with that same tone of exasperation that Charles had experienced in the elevator. “I asked you out on a date. What do you think you do on a date?”

Charles doesn’t answer at first, then he looks at Erik and very seriously tells him the truth, “I don’t date.”

It’s Erik’s turn to be silent, his eyes watching Charles' face and his expression suddenly soft, gentle and a little sad. He takes another bite of dessert then puts his fork down. “So,what are you doing here then, besides trying to convince me we should be doing something other than dating?”

Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually, Charles thinks to himself, but now he sees that his master plan isn’t going to work, and he thinks about Erik’s question. He can get up and walk away, they can shake hands and call it a night, and Charles can go back to the semi-frequent no-strings-attached anonymous shag, or he could consider what Erik is suggesting. Dating.

“What if I agree to date,” Charles asks slowly, “do we ever get to fuck, or is this some sort of strange platonic relationship that’s going to leave me wanking every night?”

“Well, I said I was going to fuck you, didn’t I?” Erik says, smiling in a slightly lecherous manner, “I'm just not going to put out on the first date. I don’t want to put out until I feel like we might be something more than a one night stand. I’ve done enough of that in my life. I want more now. And I like you. A lot.”

Now it’s Charles turn to smile. He likes how forthright Erik is. It makes things easier.

“And if we crash and burn?” Charles says, chewing on a fingernail, feeling uneasy about what Erik is proposing. This isn’t about feeling good, it’s about potentially putting his heart on the line.

“Um, that’s why we date. It’s nice to figure all that out before we end up having sex and it makes everything more complicated.”

Charles can’t think of anything else to say so he takes another bite of his dessert and watches Erik across the table. He is so strong and confident, and nothing about his actions betray whether or not he’s nervous, but Charles secretly hopes that some part of him is a tad bit worried that Charles is going to say ‘no’ to his proposition. Charles has never fully considered purposely entering into a relationship with the intent of seeing if it could work long-term. All of the boyfriends he’s had in the past have been hook-ups gone wrong, and they end up hating each other after a few months. He’s used to the sex being good and nothing else. Now he’s being offered the chance to see if everything else can be good before they have sex. He really likes this man, more than he’s liked practically anyone else in a very long time, and right now he hates the idea of having dinner and that being all they’ll ever be to each other. Charles comes to a decision. He takes a deep breath and Erik glances up at the sound, his eyes looking guarded.

“Okay.”

“Really?” Erik asks, eyebrows arched, his face appearing pleased.

“Yes. I’ll date you, Erik, uhhhhh, I don’t even know your last name.”

“Lehnsherr,” Erik provides congenially with a little smirk of amusement.

“I’ll date you, Erik Lehnsherr.”

Erik smiles again, the look of pleasure on his face increasing by the second, “super awesome.”

“Super awesome,” Charles repeats, “Really? I tell you I’ll forgo my very irresistible efforts to seduce you into my bed tonight in order to do something as thirteen-years-old as DATE you and you say ‘super awesome’.”

Erik laughs this time, and tells Charles again that he’s rather funny.

They walk for a bit after dinner and this time it’s second nature for Charles to loop his arm through Erik’s and to lean a little too close, and for their thighs to brush against each other now and then. Since Charles isn’t trying to sway Erik away from his determination to date instead of fuck, it’s actually very nice, and this time he actually does nuzzle the other man a little.

“Well,” Charles finally harrumphs a little in a show of feeling put out, “since you’re clearly not going to come back to my place, I think I need to say goodnight. I have a class to teach tomorrow.” His words are rewarded with a brief look of disappointment on Erik’s face.

“Okay,” Erik says, his tone accepting that the will be the end of their date.

“But,” Charles continues, “does this dating thing mean we can’t do anything, or could I ask you for a kiss goodnight. Something to remember you by?” And something to wank off to in the shower, Charles silently adds. Erik grins.

“Kissing is okay. More than okay,” he rasps, his voice sounding a little gravelly, his accent a smidge stronger. Charles likes this very much, the reminder that Erik does indeed want him makes Charles happy. Charles reaches up to trace the other man’s jaw line with his fingers then he takes his thumb and swipes it across the corner of Erik’s mouth, watching Erik’s eyes start to flutter shut, and was that a small moan? At the same time Charles moves closer until their fronts are pressed together.

“Mein gott,” he hears Erik mutter just before he dips his head and captures Charles mouth with his, and it’s not a chaste kiss by far. It’s almost immediately hot and slick, with tongues and teeth and Holy Fucking Shit, how is Charles going to survive dating this man? Their arms come around each other, pulling each other close and Charles feels himself growing hard from just the feel of Erik’s mouth on his. Then they break apart, breathing hard, and Charles leans his head onto the scratchy wool of Erik’s coat, trying to find words as his brain is yet again spinning.

“That…” Charles gasps, lifting his head where it’s resting on Erik’s chest and looking up into the other man’s eyes, “That works. Yeah. Oh shit.”

This time Erik doesn’t smile. He just looks down at him with undisguised want, and Charles knows it wouldn’t be much to tip him into sharing a cab and then his bed, but he also knows that this isn’t what Erik wants, and if he comes home tonight, there’s a good chance Charles will never see him again. Strangely enough, this is enough for Charles to loosen his grip on Erik’s back and pull away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hoping a little pressure will relieve the way his lips ache to be kissed again.

“So,” Charles stammers, “you said you wanted to date. When can I see you again.”

“Soon,” Erik says hoarsely, “very soon.”

Charles flags down a cab and climbs into the back, his eyes never leaving Erik’s as the other man stands on the sidewalk watching him. He turns and watches him as the cab drives away, and when the cab turns the corner and he can no longer see him, Charles pulls out his phone and texts his sister.

-holy shit, I think I’m getting married. I’m pretty sure Erik just proposed.

-srsly?

-well, not quite, but it appears we’re dating, which for me is about as good as married.

\- he’s a lucky man :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Charles talk more.

Charles is finishing a lecture about deconstruction he could do in his sleep when he glances up and see Erik is standing in the back of his classroom holding two coffee cups and watching him, the expression his face warm, his eyes never leaving Charles. He stumbles through his materials a little too fast, although he really only has ten more minutes to go, then ends class with a reminder that there is a paper due by Friday by the end of the day, bring them to class or drop them in his office by 5 pm. The students groan and file out of class, leaving Charles standing at the lectern, moving his papers around, trying to look purposeful and maybe even a little smartish. Oh god, is smartish even a word? Erik smiles at him and walks up to the front of the room, his stride long and unhurried.

“Hey,” he says, which seems to be his standard greeting, and again it’s rumbling and intimate, like he could be saying it with his head on the pillow next to Charles, and it makes Charles start to feel the heat of a blush creeping up his face.

“Did you like what you saw?” Charles asks, and why can’t he stop using that awful double entendre, and then corrects himself, “um, I mean my lecture. Did you like it?”

“What I heard, yes. I haven't been here that long.” Erik says, handing him a coffee. “I brought you coffee. I just guessed, but figured almost everyone at least likes coffee.”

Charles nods. He does indeed like coffee. He takes the cup from him and takes a sip. It tastes smooth and bitter and perfect.

“Thank you,” Charles says sincerely. It was nice of Very Handsome Erik to show up in the back of his class and bring him coffee. Very nice indeed.

“So,” Erik says, a little oddly hesitant, “do you have a little extra time right now, because I thought we might be able to have our second date.”

Does he have time? He has papers to grade and he needs to prepare his lectures for next week and he promised Raven he’d go shopping with her, but here is Erik standing in front of him, his face looking so eager, and all other pressing things are pushed aside for more time with Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick. Booyah.

“Pop-up Date,” Charles says, amused and he holds up his coffee cup, “complete with coffee. Tell me, Professor Lehnsherr, what do you have in mind?”

“I thought we could find a bench and talk a little,” Erik says, again sounding a little shy, as if it’s okay to have the event of eating dinner between them but just spending time talking is too vulnerable, but he’s still going to ask for it anyway. Charles likes this small amount of discomfort and he really likes that Erik asks for what he wants. It makes him feel very desired, more than if Erik was whispering dirty things in his ear. Well, maybe about the same, which is surprising.

“Okay,” Charles says, taking another sip of the coffee. They head out of the building and towards a nearby bench that’s situated under a huge oak tree, one of the many that dot the idyllic campus of the small university Charles teaches at. Part of him isn’t quite sure about sitting and talking in the same place he works, but he thinks he could probably convince any witnesses that he was just selling the newest recruit to the English department on all the perks of working here. Like him and his tight ass. That’s a perk.

“So,” Erik says after they sit down, close to each other but not touching at all.

“So,” Charles repeats, looking out over the flawless green lawn and not at the incredibly handsome man sitting next to him.

“What should we talk about?”

Charles wants to roll his eyes. Come on, Erick I-Only-Want-To-Date Lehnsherr. This is your gig, your game of dating. You should be the one taking the lead, but here you are seeming almost embarrassed and awkward and ever-so charming.

“How about something easy,” Charles suggests, “like music. What kind of music do you like?”

Erik brightens at this suggestion, “classical, of course. I like most of it, but I love the strength and power of Wagner….” Charles thinks Erik would continue to wax poetic about Wagner but when he glances over and sees Charles look of worry, and stops himself, “Um, what do you like to listen to?”

Charles thinks this is going to be the moment that Erik decides that all this dating is for naught and maybe they should just fuck because they’re entirely incompatible in all other areas.

“Um, Scissor Sisters?”

Erik snorts at this revelation, “Could you be more gay?” he asks, grinning at Charles, as if he loves this revelation of their deep musical incompatibility. Charles winces a little then adds another nail to the coffin.

“And Kyle Minogue.”

“I take it back,” Eriks laughs, and some of his tension slips away, “You CAN actually be more gay. I really should take you to the DOS sometime. I think you would love it.”

“DOS?”

“Dublin Orchestral Symphony. I have season tickets.”

Charles raises an eyebrow, amused that Erik is thinking about Charles in Dublin and they’ve only been on one date. “only if Scissor Sisters are performing,” he says. “Now that we’ve determined we’re entirely incompatible when it comes to music.”

“There’s more to life than music,” Erik says softly, moving hand to rest lightly on Charles knee for a few brief second before he removes it, causing Charles to shiver.

“What about past relationships?”

“Really?” Erik says, “from musical tastes to all the people we’ve fucked?”

“Speed dating?” Charles jokes, “get through this shit fast?”

“Okay,” Erik sighs willingly, but the tension has returned in increments, “I’ll just put it out there. I was married before.”

“Oh!” Charles says, surprised. “Gay married, or we-said-our-vows-alone-on-a-mountaintop-where no-one-could-hear-us-and-we-don’t-need-paper-to-prove-our-love married?”

Erik takes a deep breath as he continues to hold Charles’ gaze, “Neither. Straight married.”

“OH!” This does surprise Charles because considering that Erik appears, ahem, quite experienced in functioning as a gay man, he would have never expected he had ever been anything but.

“Her name is Magda and we were high school sweethearts and got married second year into university.”

“And what happened.”

“She wanted kids, I didn’t. I like cock. We decided being married wasn’t going to work for either of us. That's the shortest version.”

Charles sees that Erik’s eyes are haunted despite the fact that he describes the demise of his marriage in a very matter-of-fact manner.

“And how did this all come about.”

Erik takes a deep, shaking breath, as if they are straying into territory of things that do not come easy for him to talk about, but he’s going to answer the question anyway.

“I loved Marta, but I had an affair with my TA when I was working on my doctorate. His name was Sebastian, and he helped me realize that being with a woman wasn’t going to be a long-term thing for me.”

“So, you’re a cheater,” Charles says, taking a sip of his coffee, glad that Erik is willing to reveal this to him but silently adding, _does this mean you’ll cheat on me_ , to his observation.

“NO!” Erik says forcefully, almost desperately. “I have never cheated since. It was a confusing time and I had never allowed myself to be honest about what I wanted. It’s not like Sebastian was the first man I had ever had sex with, but he was the first I loved, and it blew everything I had told myself apart. I hate that I cheated and I hate that I hurt Magda like that. I especially hate that it feels like it had to happen that way for me to finally be honest about who I am.”

Charles sees the pain that was lurking before in full-force and he places a hand softly on Erik’s shoulder. He doesn’t tell him it’s okay, because from Erik’s reactions, he knows it will never be okay. He just tries to provide some comfort.

“Where is she now,” Charles asks quietly.

“Remarried, Dusseldorf, two kids according to the latest holiday card she sent me. She looks happy.”

“and what happened to Sebastian?”

Erik's face turns haunted again, “It was never meant to last. He turned out to be much more cruel than I realized and I broke it off, but that almost killed me. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again, so I decided to do a decent amount of fucking around.”

“Fucking around can be good.” Charles says softly, understanding the lure of sex with no strings especially when you’ve been hurt in the past, and Erik's revelation makes him ache for the man sitting next to him who holding himself so carefully and still, staring at something in the distance.

“Fucking around has its purpose.” Erik says, glancing over at Charles.

“And now?” Charles asks, wanting to hear the next stage of Erik’s story and how he came to the conclusion he was ready to stop fucking around and look for something serious. Erik looks a tad uncomfortable at Charles’ question and his gaze moves to look at some random spot on the horizon.

“And now…” Erik says hesitantly, as if he’s about to lay all his cards on the table, and what comes next makes Charles realize that is exactly the situation Erik is in, “and now I’ve met you.”

Erik’s words send a chill through Charles and he doesn’t know what to say to this revelation. While Charles was contemplating how to get into Erik’s pants, Erik was deciding that meeting Charles was enough to want to settle down, get married and have squalling babies. It was almost too much and he suppresses the urge to stand up, tell Erik it’s been nice knowing him, and run away. Far, far away. Charles clenches his hands and makes himself stay seated. 

“Shit,” Charles manages to say, feeling rocked to his core. 

“Sorry,” Erik says quietly. “I know it’s a lot, and I know it’s me, but I want to be honest. When I opened that door and you were standing there holding that damn cheese plate, I decided that no matter what, I wanted to get to know you. Then you turned out to be kind of awkward and very funny, on top of sexy, and it’s the first time in a long time I’ve wanted someone in that way. You know, more than a quick shag.”

Thanks, universe, Charles thinks, for making me romantically irresistible instead of just drop dead fuckable.

“It’s kind of a lot, Erik, Charles says softly. They are, after all, telling each other the truth, “I don’t even know if that’s close to what I want here.”

“Well, that’s obvious,” Erik laughs, and after all the tension between them, it’s good to hear him laugh. "I'm not blind."

“And it makes you a bit of a creeper.” Charles said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“Does it count that I’m YOUR creeper?” Erik asks warily.

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” Erik sighs, sounding a little sad, “it’s okay if you want to go and never see each other again. I knew this would be a lot and I know you think I’m crazy, so if you want to call all of this done and walk away, I’m okay with that.”

It’s one of the most mature conversations Charles has ever had, and he bites on the nail of his forefinger for a moment as he thinks about what Erik has said. He hasn’t proposed marriage. He’s not declaring love. He’s just saying that he likes Charles and wants to see if there could be more between them. It’s not unusual for people to be in different places. Charles knows this from all the about-to-be ex boyfriends who have screamed that they love him as they’re throwing something across the room in his direction. It’s kind of nice to have it all laid out to start with. And he thinks that if Erik is willing to accept being disappointed by Charles not being on the same page, than he’s willing to give this a chance. Charles takes a deep breathe and turns to Erik.

“I’m still here,” he says softly. “I mean, I should be running away, screaming, but I’m not. You’re a fascinating man, Erik Lehnsherr. That’s in your favor.”

They sit silently for a while, neither quite sure what to say after Erik’s confession. Then Charles speaks up.

“So, just out of curiosity, if we had met in the club, you would have fucked me.”

Erik grins at Charles, happy to be back in the familiar territory of sex, “Yes.” he says in a very sure tone.

“Because I’m your type.”

“Yes,” Erik says again. “Thin,”

“Slender” Charles corrects.

“Bookish,”

“Um, intelligent.” Charles corrects again. Because whatever random gent you’re slamming should at least have a brain. Really. “And you were waylaid by a cheese plate?”

“Well,” Erik muses, “it was a little more than just the cheese plate. I mean, who brings a cheese plate anymore. There was also your blue, blue eyes. They are very blue, you know.”

“Hmmmm,” Charles hums, wanting to hear more, wanting to drag Erik into any type of dirty flirtation he possibly can because that is the only thing that feels safe right now.

“And your lips. They are incredibly lovely. Plus you were shockingly speechless when I opened the door,”

“Well, who could blame me…”

And your ass is damn close to perfect,” Erik continues, ignoring Charles completely.

“Jesus Christ,” Charles curses as his cock starts to swell, “why the hell did I agree to this in the first place and not just decide you could fuck me and we’d call it a day.”

“Stupidity?” Erik asks.

“Just promise me this whole thing is leading somewhere,” Charles grits out, “Because it’s pretty much the biggest cock tease I’ve ever been involved in.”

“Like I said last night,” Erik responds gently, “I have every intention of fucking you. Just not now. I promise.”

“I guess we should see each other again, then,” Charles says politely. “Especially if you intend to live up to your promise.”

“Tomorrow night, then,” Erik asks, “I’ll meet you at your place?”

“How, um, traditional, of you,” Charles says, “will you bring me flowers as well?”

Erik raises and eyebrow that says he very well just might and Charles laughs. His coffee cup is empty and he thinks it’s probably best if they part ways, plus he has yet another date with his shower tonight, so he stands up and takes Erik’s hand. He grips it firmly and gives it a strong shake.

“It’s been a nice second date, Professor Lehnsherr.” Charles says, and he means it, even with the somewhat uncomfortable revelations.

“See you tomorrow night,” Erik says, “and, could you text me your address?”

Charles agrees and the two men part ways, Charles heading back to his office in the English building and Erik heading towards the campus entrance. Charles is whistling a random, happy sounding tune as he approaches the doors that lead to his office when he hears his name being called. He turns and sees Moira McTaggart running to catch up with him.

“Was that Erik Lehnsherr sitting with you,” Moira asks, slightly out of breath, as she stops in front of him.

“Yes,” Charles says, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just surprised,” Moira pants, “I thought he was supposed to go back to Dublin yesterday. That’s what his itinerary said.”

Charles looked at Moira in surprise.

“Well, maybe he decided to stay a little longer than expected,” Charles says, bemused, “maybe he’s fallen in love with our little campus.” He winces at his own words. Maybe he’s fallen in love with something else entirely, and the thought both thrills Charles and makes his stomach twist in fear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexting tries to happen. Erik meets Raven.

-I think we should text

Charles looks at his phone and smiles. Erik. It’s only been a few hours since they left each other and now he’s texting. Charles is lying on his bed naked, feeling boneless after a very satisfying masturbaton session in the shower. He picks up his phone and sends a message back.

-clearly you think this since you just texted me.

His phone is silent for what feels like an eternity and then it dinks again.

-what are you wearing.

Charles laughs out loud and sends a message back.

-is sexting part of dating?

-I don't really know. I guess not. How are you.

-I'm naked.

Charles' phone is silent for an even longer period of time and he wonders if he's overstepped his bounds when it dinks again.

-that did not help anything.

Charles thinks for a minute, biting his lip, then decides to follow Erik's lead of being honest to a fault.

-I hope you're getting yourself off and thinking about me because that's what I've just finished doing.

Another long pause.

-sleep well Charles. I'll see you tomorrow. :)

When Charles wakes there's another text waiting for him.

-good morning.

Charles texts Erik back, feeling very satisfied with himself.

-what are you wearing.

Charles smiles as he thinks how much this will amuse Erik when his phone dinks again.

-my Hello Kitty pajamas you fucking creeper. Pay attention to who you're texting and stop trying to sext your sister.

_Whoops._

The rest of the day flies by and Charles receives several texts from Erik that reveal he is indeed quite smitten. Things like "drinking my coffee and thinking of you." Normally this type of thing would send Charles running the other way but coming from Erik it just seems sweet.

Finally he arrives home and starts prepping for his date when there's a knock on the door. Charles glances at his phone and sees that it's 45 minutes before Erik is supposed to arrive, but he was early for dinner the other night so maybe he's just early in general. Oh dear god, Charles thinks to himself, I really hope he's not early in bed. By the time they reach the point of actually having sex Charles is going to need lots and lots of time because the list of things he wants to do with Erik is growing longer each day.

Charles hears another knock and this time it sounds familiar and he starts to suspect exactly what he finds when he opens his door and his sister ducks past him, a paper grocery bag in-hand.

"You missed our shopping date and you tried to sext me this morning, both highly uncharacteristic of you, so I thought you might need an intervention." Raven says, putting the bag on the kitchen bar. "I brought wine and old movies."

"Um, Raven," Charles stutters, "I can't, I mean I kind of have plans, I mean...I'm going out."

"To the club?" Raven asks and Charles realizes that in addition to not making their shopping date, he has not filled her in on what's going on since his date with Erik. His first date, that is. Charles winces because he knows how his sister is going to react to what he's about to say, and they’ve been on a second date since then, and she’s going to kill him for his radio silence.

"No, on a date."

Raven's eyes grow wide and her mouth falls open. "Nooo!" She exclaims, "with your future husband? Sex on a Stick?"

"Raven!"

"Tonight?"

"RAVEN!"

She looks at him with undisguised glee and Charles rolls his eyes.

“I am SO not leaving now,” Raven declares and plops herself on his Italian leather art-deco modern couch. Charles wants to tell her to sod off, convince her to leave, but he’s known Raven all his life, and she gets what she wants. Right now she wants to meet Erik and Charles knows nothing will stop her.

“By the way,” Raven says, glancing up at him, “you smell really good. Very fuckable.”

“This isn’t about fucking,” Charles tells Raven.

“Says Mr. Everyone Wants to Fuck.”

“He likes me, Raven.” Charles says as he heads back to his room to pick out another shirt. He thinks he’ll go for his usual v-neck but white this time. “And I kind of like him too.”

“Shit, Charles. You weren’t kidding when you said he proposed marriage. I mean, this is as close to marriage as I’ve ever seen you.”

“Still a lifetime away, love.” Charles yells out to Raven while pulling the t-shirt over his head. He looks in the mirror, fixes his hair a bit, wonders if he should consider putting on a little lip gloss but decides on bringing a chap stick he can utilize at the exact right time in a most sexy manner that might bring on some kissing. Erik had said something about his lips and Charles thinks it will be in his best interest to look extremely kissable tonight. And maybe pet-able as well.

“I want to be a bridesmaid,” Raven yells.

“Fuck you,” Charles yells back.

"No, maid of honor!"

"Fuck you!"

There’s a knock on the door and Charles hears Raven jump off the couch. He looks at his phone and indeed, Erick appears to be early, but only by fifteen minutes.

“Open that door and I will kill you,” Charles yells as he bolts out of the bedroom and towards the front door of his apartment. Raven stands in the hallway looking perturbed, her hands on her hips. “Stay RIGHT there,” Charles threatens and he opens the door.

Erik is standing in the hallway looking a truly adorable combination of nervous and eagerness and he’s holding a big bouquet of flowers, which makes Charles heart clench a little. He’s not wearing a turtleneck but a soft looking polo sweater that’s open at the neck, and this doesn’t alleviate Charles' urge to kiss his neck right at the base. He looks like he went out and got a haircut and Charles find all evidence that Erik has gotten ready for their date incredibly sexy. And he smells good, entirely sniffable. All in all, he’s standing in the hallway of Charles’ apartment looking like the total package. Erik's face lights up when he sees Charles and he holds out the flowers. Charles laughs at the flowers and he resists the urge to lean forward the plant a kiss on Erik’s cheek.

“Look,” Charles starts to explain before Erik can say anything, “I’m really sorry.”

Erik’s face falls. Oh god, he thinks Charles is apologizing for having to break their date. Charles reaches out a hand and puts it on Erik’s arm. “No, no, nothing to do with you, er us, or you being here, it’s just,” Charles pauses, “my sister is here.”

“You have a sister?” Erik says blankly, as if meeting the family is the last thing he expected to come out of Charles’ mouth.

“She came over to spend the evening with me without calling first and I haven’t been filling her in on, um, recent developments, and she’s kind of here and very determined to meet you.”

Erik looks relieved as he smiles broadly.

“Okay then,” he says, “I’d love to meet her too.”

Charles takes the flowers then steps aside and ushers Erik into the apartment. Raven is standing in the middle of Charles’ living room, her arms crossed over her chest, and he sees Erik take inventory of her - short skirt, wild long blue hair, pierced nose, a snarl on her face making her look ever so slightly like a punk. Charles’ heart is in his throat for a moment, although he can’t even stop to ask himself why this moment is so important and why he’s so damn nervous.

“Raven,” Charles says, nodding to her, “this is Erik.”

“So you’re sex-on-a-stick,” Raven says and Charles grimaces. Erik just looks amused.

“Raven is an artist.” Charles says, trying to send his sister a look of shut-the-fuck-up. “She has a loft a few blocks away from me, which is sometimes NOT enough distance.”

“If you hurt Charles, I will hurt you,” Raven says with a saccharine smile, “I have a knife,” and Charles is surprised to hear the possessiveness in her voice. He also knows she doesn’t actually have a knife, unless she plans to attack Erik with one of her blunt putty knives she uses for sculpting. Erik appears to take all of this in stride, because he answers her in what Charles is discovering a very honest and very Erik manner.

“I’m not planning to hurt him.”

Raven huffs a little, “Okay,” she says.

“Put these in water, will you love,” Charles says, shoving the flowers at Raven and glaring at her at the same time.

“Flowers,” Raven observes, “you must be smitten.”

“I am,” Erik says. More honesty. Charles blushes.

“Let’s go,” Charles says, sliding his harm through Erik’s. He glares at Raven and tells her not to leave too big of a mess, then he and Erik head out on their date. About five minutes after they leave Charles hears the dink of his phone again. He pulls it out and looks at the message from Raven.

-I like him.

Me too, Charles thinks to himself. _Me too._

For this date the go to a movie then dinner. Erik says he thought they should do what most people do for a date, and he tells Charles he picked out the latest blockbuster because he thought it too early in their relationship to subject him to his more favored art house flicks with subtitles. The movie is quite uninspiring except that it gives Charles the opportunity to lean against Erik and run his hand up and down his strong thigh until Erik shudders and picks up Charles hand carefully, setting it down on the arm rest.

"Mein got, Charles," Erik mutters, "there's only so much I can take."

Dinner goes better only because Charles is sitting across from Erik and not next to him, which proves to be somewhat less distracting, although Charles still finds his train of thought trailing off because he's too distracted by Erik's lips and what he imagines they could do. Erik tells Charles he likes Raven and Charles says her charm might wear off over time. Erik takes this in stride, looking satisfied that Charles thinks he might be around long enough for his sister to loose her charm.

Erik tells Charles about growing up in Germany and Charles asks him if he would speak German for him. Erik rolls his eyes.

"You think it's sexy." Erik says, sounding resigned, as if he’s been asked this question before.

"God yes," Charles gasps. He can't imagine anything sexier than Erik's deep husky voice whispering the guttural tones of German in his ear.

"Well, I'm not good at conversational,” he says, "but I've been known to lapse into it at times."

"What times," Charles asks, leaning forward and deeply curious because he's not quite sure but he thinks Erik might be blushing. He looks good a little flushed.

"Well, I lapse into it now and then, but mostly, ahem, in bed." Erik says tightly and Charles feels all his blood rush straight to his cock as he thinks to himself, well fuck me now. Jesus Christ is there nothing about this man that isn't fucking hot. He looks at Erik and bites his lip and he thinks Erik looks about as gone as Charles feels at this moment.

"This dating thing is hard," Charles manages to gasp and he tries to think of something decidedly unsexy to try to will his cock into submission yet again.

"Yes it is." Erik's says, his voice sounding a little strained.

They are quiet for a long time, both grappling for control and finally Charles feels like he can look across the table at Erik without wanting to leap on him. They don't order dessert but get the bill and head out, arm in arm. Charles again leans against Erik, a habit he's grown quiet fond of in such a short period of time, and he finds himself feeling oddly content. They grab a cab and Erik goes with Charles back to the sidewalk outside Charles' apartment. Charles stands close to Erik, leaning towards him, not wanting to say goodnight.

"I wish you could come up," Charles murmurs. He doesn't want this night to end, doesn't want to let Erik go and suddenly his apartment feels terribly lonely.

"I can't,” Eriks gasps as Charles slides his hands up under his shirt, feeling the warm skin of Erik’s back. Erik is sliding his hands up and down Charles’ arms in a quick, frantic motion. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself with your bed so close.”

“And that’s bad?” Charles asks, tilting his head upwards, practically begging to be kissed.

“It’s not what I want,” Erik answers, “at least not yet.” Charles huffs out a little breath of disappointment, causing Erik to slow his hands until they are more soothing than frantic, “but soon. I promise, soon. I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

This statement makes Charles happy. Very happy.

“Kiss me goodnight?” Charles asks, wanting just a little something more.

“God, yes,” Erik moans and his mouth crushes to Charles in a bruising kiss, then another and another until that now familiar spinning feeling starts again and Charles clings to Erik because he’s not sure if he can keep standing. He’s had a lot of sex in his life, and it always feels good, sometimes really hot, but this kissing is taking him places he’d never expected, and he can’t imagine what’s going to happen when they finally get to having actual sex. He’s not sure if he’s ever wanted anyone else quite this much. Erik Lehnsherr it turns out is a master of foreplay as the long-game.

“Sleep well,” Erik gasps against his forehead as they break apart. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

These words make Charles heart swell in an unusual manner and he discovers that the prospect of seeing Erik again tomorrow is entirely thrilling. He plants another short kiss on Erik’s lips, then another, until the other man protests and pushes him away, telling him that the both need sleep. Ha, Charles wants to laugh, like he’s going to sleep and not going to jerk himself off asap then spend several hours replaying every moment of this night over and over again in his head. He doesn’t admit this, just tells Erik good night and then turns and walks toward his apartment, and no matter how much he wants to, he doesn’t look back, although he’s sure he’d find Erik watching him until he disappears into the lobby.

When he gets into his apartment, Charles takes off all his clothes and stretches out, naked, on the bed, takes his cock in his hand and starts to stroke himself before the feel of Erik’s lips on his has entirely faded away. He closes his eyes and imagines what Erik looks like naked, and he’s starting to feel his balls tighten up a little, his cock half hard, when he hears his phone make that familiar dink sound that means a text message has come in. He groans to himself, thinking it had better not be Raven, and she’s had less than stellar timing lately. He rolls over to grab his phone off the dresser and looks at the message. It’s from Erik.

-miss you already.

And with that, Charles melts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik is leaving. They finally have sex. Charles really likes kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a lot of sex, but I'm pretty sure this is the first time I've accomplished porn (with plot. always with plot). Enjoy.

-I think we should fuck.

Charles blinks at his phone and he regrets checking it mid-lecture because now he’s entirely distracted and still has about thirty minutes to go. He quickly texts Erik back.

-you need to think about your timing with these messages.

Then he sends a second text.

-and yes. god yes.

Charles is done with his lecture when another text appears, and he thinks that Erik probably figured out he was in class and waited until he knew he was done. Charles looks at his phone and reads what Erik has written.

-we need to talk before we do this.

His phone makes the dink sound before he’s even done reading the most recent text and another one arrives.

-and I leave in three days.

Charles feels his heart drop.

It’s been four days since their move/dinner date and Erik has spent every evening with Charles. They have gone out a couple nights, but they have also stayed in, Charles insisting Raven come over to act as a buffer in case he loses control and drags Erik to bed, and they end up sitting on the floor in the living room playing board games and eating Chinese takeout. At the end of the night Raven says she will step out for a few minutes so Charles and Erik could say their goodbyes, giving Charles a look that indicates she knows how much time it would take him to rip Erik’s clothes off and she will be back before he was able to do that. Instead he and Erik kiss each other slowly, lingering, and Charles whispers against his lips how much he hates saying goodbye.

They didn’t just see each other at night. Erik comes by for lunch every day until Moira gave Charles a knowing look and said she suspects it wasn’t the university Erik is interested in after all. Charles resists the urge to comment on Moira’s sheer brilliance. After two days Charles starts to look forward to Erik’s long, lithe figure leaning on the door jam of his office, a sack with sandwiches in his hand, and they usually go sit on the bench Charles has started to think of as ‘our bench’ to himself and talk while they eat.

It was all very nice and strangely domestic, and Charles has found himself relaxing into the routine, until today when the text arrived.

Erik has decided it was time they fucked. But even bigger than that, he's leaving. Charles wracks his brain to remember if Erik has mentioned this leaving thing before, maybe in passing, but he can't remember any mention of it, and maybe he had just chosen to ignore it. It made sense. Charles already knew Erik had extended his trip and he feels a little silly not considering that at some point the man he’d grown so fond of might actually have to go home. For a moment Charles considers offering himself as a stowaway, and surely he could just squeeze himself into a suitcase and Erik can take him with him. Then he pushes that silly thought away, because if he wanted to go with Erik didn’t that mean he wanted a lot more from this relationship than he had ever wanted from one before, and that feels scary.

Erik is waiting for him when he got back to his office and Charles throws him a worried glance as he throws down his satchel and shuts his office door. Erik is standing in the middle of the small room with his hands pushed in his pockets and he is looking unusually slumped, worry radiating off him in waves.

“I’m sorry,” Erik says, his eyes following Charles, reading the tension in Charles’ shoulders, “I shouldn't have texted that. I didn’t want to say the words out loud. I don’t want them to be true.”

“Which part?” Charles asks, “the fucking or the leaving?”

“You know what I mean,” Erik says quietly. “My time here has never been without an expiration date and I need to get back. I’m on leave for this quarter and I have some more university visits scheduled.”

Charles feels the clench in his chest again. He realizes he’s been assuming that Erik coming here to teach was a done deal. He hadn’t understood that it wasn’t.

“I don’t want to leave without...before we, well...you know.” Erik says, strangely at loss for words.

“Before you fuck me,” Charles says, surprised at how bitter he sounds. It’s not like this isn’t what he’s wanted all along, and now that Erik is finally agreeing, he feels way more dirty about the situation than is comfortable.

“Yes,” Erik says softly. “I want to fuck you. I want to feel you entirely. I’m leaving and I need this. Don’t you understand?”

Charles blinks and suddenly his tensions slips away. He actually does understand wanting something to hold on to, so he answers honestly, “yes.”

“So I want to talk about it before we do it,” Erik says, and Charles wonders if he’s ever going to not be struck by Erik’s stark honesty.

“Okay,” Charles says, “but not here. Let’s go to my place.”

They are silent during the ride to his apartment, not even sitting so they can touch, not glancing over at each other, tension practically thrumming in the back of the cab. When they arrive, Charles pays the fare and they climb the steps to the lobby door, push inside, cross the lobby to the elevator. Charles can hear the quick intake and output of breath from Erik, who still doesn’t touch him but practically vibrates with want and the knowledge of what they are about to do. When they are finally inside Charles’ apartment with no Raven to chaperone them, Charles fantasies have always led him to think Erik might slam him against the wall and ravage his mouth but instead he takes Erik’s coat and offers him a glass of water. Eriks says water sounds good and five minutes later they are seated on Charles’ couch, facing each other.

“So,” Charles starts, “what do you want to talk about?”

Erik looks as little embarrassed but he clears his throat and starts to talk, “I really like you, Charles. I mean, really really like you. And I have wanted to fuck you since that day at book club. But I also want us to talk about our sexual histories before we do this.”

Charles tenses at Erik’s words.

“If you’re intent is to shame me,” Charles starts but Erik leans forward and puts a hand on Charles knee.

“No,” he says, “Not about how many people you’ve slept with. I’ve gathered that we are both quite experienced and I’m okay with that as long as you are. I wouldn’t mind knowing about your major relationships.”

Charles laughs a little, “well, that’s easy. They all started from hookups, they all ended with something being thrown at me.

“Okay,” Erik says, smiling a little and appearing satisfied with Charles’ answer, and Charles is grateful Erik doesn’t seem to be interested in digging into all of Charles shortcomings. His hand is still on Charles knee and he’s now starting to draw circles over the fabric of Charles’ jeans, “are you safe and do you get tested regularly.”

Practical and straightforward Erik.

“Yes and yes.”

“Are you okay always using condoms?”

“Of course,” Charles says. He has always been fastidious about using condoms, even though he’s had more than one person offer to go without.

“Okay,” Erik huffs, his hand now moving to stroke Charles’ thigh, “now, I need to know what you like.”

“What I like?” Charles asks, blinking, as he thinks that what he likes is Erik Lehnsherr.

“Yes,” Erik says practically, “What you like in bed. I want this to be everything you want.”

Charles is taken aback. Even the men he’s had relationships with, none of them had been so considerate as to ask what he would like. It doesn’t help that most of them had fucked before they had ever even talked to each other. He also frowns a little because Erik is leaving and maybe all of this is because they’re not going to see each other again. Shit.

“Well,” Charles starts, “I like to bottom.”

“Okay,” Erik says with the studied control of a clinician. Charles half expects Erik to whip out a yellow notepad.

“I like to be rimmed.”

Erik’s hand falters a little then continues stroking his thigh.

“And fingered.”

“Mein gott, Charles,” Erik hisses. 

Charles grins because he’s feeling the same way, “you asked…”

“I did.” Erik breathes out hard.

“Sucking off and being sucked off. Hands, mouth, either of those on my cock, or on yours is entirely acceptable.” The pressure of Erik’s hand increases and it starts to stray upwards to where Charles cock is starting to strain in his jeans. Charles feels his breathing start to go faster, “and you?” he manages to ask Erik.

“All of that,” Erik gasps, sounding eager, no longer interested in going into a lot of detail. 

“Oh,” Charles says, “and when you fuck me,” adding mentally that it looks like that might be very, very soon, “I want as much of that as possible. I want to be not just fucked but entirely fucked.”

Erik says something in German that Charles can’t understand then then he finds himself being pushed back, pinned by the larger man’s weight, and here is the ravaging of his mouth that he’s been wanting as Erik crushes his mouth to Charles’ and Charles opens his wide, letting in Erik’s tongue, greeting him like he’s finally come home, and thank god this is finally happening. Charles’ cock is practically singing.

Somehow the fact that Erik is leaving gets pushed aside, almost like that part of their situation never happened. For how it’s just the two of them, their bodies, their want and their need. Erik’s weight is on top of Charles and he’s rutting against him, moaning into his mouth, and it takes everything Charles has to push at him and grunt “bedroom”.

“Not the couch?” Erik smiles. Charles thinks that the couch is fine, and the kitchen counter, and the floor, and, fuck, pretty much anywhere Erik wants him, but it’s their first time and he wants this to be comfortable and the bed isn’t that far way. Surely they can hold out long enough to get to the bedroom, but then Erik is kissing Charles again and all rational thought flies out of his head.

They still manage to make it to the bedroom and they also somehow managed to get out of their clothes, and then they are pressed together, naked, and kissing over and over, and shit, Charles loves just kissing this man more than he’s ever imagined. Even though he aches for more he also wants this moment to go on for an eternity, their mouths hungry for each other, sloppy and wet, and oh so good.

Erik backs Charles up until he feels the edge of the bed against his calves and then he’s tumbling backwards, Erik crawling up over to follow him then pinning Charles to the bed with his weight, and he’s still kissing him, but now Erik’s hand is reaching between them, finding Charles cock and Erik laugh’s against Charles’ mouth.

“You’re so hard,” Erik mutters. Observation of the century, Charles thinks as he bucks against Erik’s touch. Erik is stroking him leisurely, or maybe it’s actually reverently, all the while staring into Charles’ eyes, watching his face, and this whole thing is making Charles feel on display and just shy of entirely crazy with lust.

“Get on with it,” Charles hisses, because suddenly kissing is way too little and he is aching so deeply that it almost hurts. With these words Erik starts stroking him a little harder and Charles arches up into him and moans.

“Lube?” Erik gasps, his eyes still locked with Charles, his mouth hovering just centimeters away, and Charles manages to gasp that it’s in the side table drawer, then Erik is pulling off him leaving only cool air on Charles’ skin, and if he thought the aching was bad before, Erik’s absence makes Charles want to cry with frustration. Then Erik is back, but he doesn’t cover him again, he pushes Charles legs apart and goes to kneel between his legs, and Charles sees that Erik is busy slicking his fingers with lube, and jesus christ, the man looks hot doing pretty much anything.

Erik leans down and now he’s nuzzling at Charles’ groin...nuzzling, goddammit...and Charles isn’t sure he’s ever actually been nuzzled in bed, but he likes it, then in one smooth movement Erik takes Charles’ cock in his mouth, and it’s swift and deep and Charles can’t help but switch his hips up sharply as a string of expletives spill from his now swollen lips. He briefly thinks about the image of Erik asking him so studiously about what he likes in bed and the yellow pad he’d imagined and thinks this is a pretty good start. He looks down to see Erik looking up at him, up his heaving chest, and he’s fucking smiling around Charles’ cock.

Charles moans and declares something like, fuck that’s good, which is made irrelevant in the next few seconds because that’s when he feels Erik’s slicked up fingers start to circle his anus. At this point all Charles can do is moan and try to use some sort of telepathy to tell Erik that he can go ahead and penetrate him, but all his nerve endings around that puckered hole are on fire as Erik traces it, and maybe it’s okay if this goes on just a little bit longer. Then he slips one finger inside, mouth still working Charles’ cock, and Charles arches up again, grinding his hips, and lets out what might be considered an obscenely loud moan.

“More,” Charles gasps. Erik obliges this request with a second finger, and then he's scissoring the two, stretching Charles in just the right way, and he does this a few times before he adds a third finger and then starts pumping his hand. Charles moans again because when done right, fingering can be so fucking good.

Still, Charles wants more, and he misses Erik kissing him, and he’s starting to feel unbearably tight and hard, and there’s risk that he’s going to come before Erik can get inside him. So Charles says this. Well, he sort of mutters something like, ‘get the fuck inside me’ in a guttural, dirty tone, and he feels Erik falter at his words, then his fingers pull out and his mouth is gone and all Charles can do is lay there, watching Erik through hooded eyes, splayed out on the bed, entirely debauched. He can tell Erik likes this because when he finishes rolling the condom onto his large, very hard cock, he turns to gaze at Charles and his eyes grow even wider with lust, and this makes Charles smile.

“Turn over,” Erik gasps and Charles holds back a mild look of disappointment that this isn’t going to be done sweetly, gazing into each others eyes, then Erik appears to read Charles worry and mutters something about them not actually staying in that position, and didn’t he say he wanted to be pounded hard.

God yes.

Erik is behind him, positioning himself, and Charles feels the tip of his cock slide against Charles’ anus, and then there is some pressure, and with a soft pop, Erik is inside. Luckily Charles is wide open, well prepared and very much not new at this, but still Erik is big and Charles mutters something to that effect, along with ahhh, and fuck, and for godssake, move. Erik seems happy to acquiesce, and with Charles’ words he starts to slide in and out, at first slowly but quickly picking up speed. Charles holds his weight up on his elbows and his head hands down, then he reaches between his legs and starts to jerk on his swollen cock, loving the sensations of his own hand while he’s being so thoroughly fucked.

Erik’s pace quickens and he’s slamming into Charles who is using his one arm to brace himself, sweat dripping onto Charles' back and Erik’s big, strong hands are gripping Charles’ hips. There will most likely going to be bruises in the morning. Then Erik is laying his entire weight on Charles back, his hips still moving, and Charles turns his head, and they are kissing, sloppy and wet and desperate, until Erik groans in frustration and mumbles into Charles’ ear.

“I want you to ride me.”

Charles nods his sweat-damp head and manages to grit out, “yes.”

With those words Erik is wrapping his arms around Charles’ chest and leading backwards, taking Charles with him, still buried deep inside his ass, but he’s no longer moving, and Charles clenches his teeth with frustration, missing the friction. Once they are lying back on the bed, Charles sprawled on top of Erik, he realizes he has no choice but to lose contact, so he slips himself off Eriks’ cock, and he’s happy to hear a groan of protest, then he turns around to gaze down at Erik and slips himself right back down, watching Erik’s face contort in pleasure. Now this is what he meant by Erik being balls-deep, and slowly Charles uses his thighs to pull himself up the length of Erik’s cock and slam himself down, and just ask Erik requested, he fucks him. Erik moans and reaches up to grab Charles and stroke his length, twisting his hand every time he reaches the head of Charles’ cock.

Charles isn’t going last much longer and he can tell that Erik is getting close because he is slack jawed and looks entirely wasted. His hips are bucking up to meet Charles’ rhythm as he keeps slamming himself down, he’s no longer able to keep eye contact and his head is thrown back, his moans are hoarse and guttural, and for fuck’s sake, the man is hissing out a long string of unintelligible words in German. And yes, Charles thinks, that’s incredibly hot.

“I’m going to come,” Erik manages to sputter and Charles thinks that entirely fine with him, so he slams down harder and clenches around Erik and that’s enough to tip the other man over the edge, and he throws his head back and groans so loudly the neighbors must be able to hear, then his hips stutter and buck and Charles watches him the entire time. Then, being entirely considerate, Erik’s grip tightens around Charles cock and Charles fucks into Erik’s fist a couple more times and that’s all it takes for his balls to grow tight and his cock to pulse and he comes, shouting Erik’s name. Erik looks down at Charles’ come on his chest then looks up at Charles and grins. He fucking grins, but the grin doesn’t last long because Charles is collapsing on Erik’s chest and tangling his fingers in hair, and kissing him over and over, slowly and sweetly because he’d missed that mouth, and my god, that was pretty much the most incredible fuck he’s ever had.

Charles is boneless, sprawled across Erik and Erik is practically petting Charles’ head, and they are both still trying to catch their breath, when Erik finally manages to speak.

“Thank you,” he says softly, and Charles raises his head to look into Erik’s eyes.

“For what?” Charles asks. For an incredible fuck? He should be the one thanking Erik.

“For everything,” Erik says, his tone serious. “For dating me. For doing this my way. That...that was…”

Charles fills in the blank. Incredible. Hot. Sexy. Holy shit, let’s do it again except that I can barely move. Really.

“worth waiting for.” Erik finishes.

Charles stares at Erik and suddenly he’s trying to blink back tears, because he remembers what they’re doing, and it’s way more than having sex, and Erik is leaving in a few days,and goddammit, all of this because of a fucking cheese plate. He’s bringing chips and dips to book club in the future. It’s safer. He thinks they really should get cleaned up, but instead he leans down and kisses Erik again, this time putting everything he feels but can’t say into that touch.

He’s finally gotten Erik to fuck him, but it occurs to Charles that he’s been fucked since the moment Erik and not Moira opened the door of her apartment, and there is no way this isn’t going to end badly.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik leaves. Raven calls Charles an idiot.

"I am so fucked," Charles moans into the phone. He's lying naked in bed, the sheets gathered around his waist, phone against his ear.

"I take it you and Erik finally had sex." Raven says dryly, then her voice grows alarmed, "Charles! You'd better not be naked and talking to me."

"I'm not," Charles lies. "I'm fully clothed, drinking a spot of tea."

"Do you have ANY boundaries?" Raven almost screeches, "I'm just going to believe the lie. So where is Sex-on-a-Stick right now? I’m sure he’s not lying next to you while you dish with your sister."

"He's checking out of his hotel. I haven't been out of bed since yesterday and I plan on staying here for the next couple days, until Erik leaves. No use paying for a room in that case."

"Boundaries!” Raven says again, “Wait, did you say Erik is leaving?"

"I told you that I'm fucked, didn't I?"

"OMG, you don't just want to gay marry him, you want to have his gay babies! Can I be your bridesmaid AND your surrogate?"

"Fuck you, Raven. This is serious."

"No shit, big brother. When have you ever been unhappy that the universe is going to provide you a way out of a relationship. I guess you're right."

"About what?"

"You are SO fucked."

Charles hears the keys he gave Erik turning in the door and he tells Raven he loves her but he must go and ignoring her giggle, Charles ends the call. He leans back against the cool cotton sheets and stretches his arms above his head and does his best to appear wanton. He can tell that Erik appreciates his efforts by the heat in his eyes when he comes to stand in the bedroom doorway, looking fresh and clean, and Charles thinks Erik must have taken the time to shower before returning to the apartment. Charles sees that he's changed and now he actually looks casual. Well casual for Erik. He's put on a pair of wide legged yoga pants that cling in all the right places, is actually wearing a t-shirt and, good god, the man is wearing Toms. Charles is about to comment on Erik's ass with hopes of luring him back to bed when he notices the plastic bag Erik is holding and at the same moment the most delicious smell hits his nostrils.

"Is that Ethiopian?" Charles asks with a smile and his stomach betrays him by letting out an audible growl. Charles thinks about the sour taste of injera and his mouth waters.

"We can't live on sex alone," Erik laughs as Charles licks his lips and thinks, speak for yourself, "plus, I need energy for our next round."

Erik clangs around the kitchen, getting their food ready while Charles gets dressed. He throws on some sweats that hang low on his hips, a ratty t-shirt from the university, then walks out to where Erik has dished out their food, his hair mussed, rubbing the ginger stubble along his jawline and thinking he needs a shave. When Erik sees him he looks at him like he's the most amazing thing he's ever seen, then tells Charles exactly this and Charles feels himself blush. He reminds Erik that he actually stinks, of sleep and sex, and Erik grins lecherously and says that's exactly how he likes him.

They eat, picking up the food with injera, licking their fingers, and Charles says it's the best Ethiopian food he's ever had. Erik says it was yet another recommendation from Hank and this makes Charles smile.

Afterward Charles heads for the shower and he is enjoying the warmth of the water on his sex-sore muscles when the door opens and Erik steps in, naked, and for a moment Charles misses the yoga pants. Charles says that he knows Erik showered at the hotel and Erik answers that they don't have enough time to let any shower go to waste, and Charles hates the reminder that Erik will be leaving soon. Any disappointment he's feeling quickly slips away as Erik pushes Charles against the tiled wall of the shower, pressing his length against him and dipping his head to kiss him so very slowly.

They end up slick and soapy and rubbing cocks until Charles is hard and aching and he finally comes with Erik not far behind him. Erik towels Charles off with that reverence that makes something deep inside Charles ache then they crawl into bed, Erik pressed against Charles' back, Charles savoring every deep, slow breath Erik takes. Their legs tangle and Erik's arms come around Charles' chest and their fingers intertwine and end up resting right next to Charles' heart.

They don't talk about Erik leaving. Not since the text, except one time when Erik tells Charles he'll have to leave for the airport in the afternoon on Monday to catch a redeye to London. If Charles stops to think about any of this he'll have to admit this might be the most god-awful thing he's ever had to go through, so instead he decides not to think about it at all.

They have two more days. Actually only a day and a half.

Erik makes breakfast the next morning and Charles sits, watching him and telling Erik that from now on he’s only allowed to wear those yoga pants but with no shirt. It seems that when Erik picked up Ethiopian he also picked up some groceries, and as he assembles a scramble with fresh spinach, tomato and goat cheese, he says something disparaging about the fact that Charles seems to only milk, cereal and beer in his kitchen.

“Single gay man’s dinner,” Charles says cheerfully, then immediately wants to take it back when he sees a small bit of sadness flicker in Erik’s eyes before he turns back to the stove and busies himself finishing breakfast.

Erik suggests they consider going outside after breakfast, and Charles reminds him that he was the one who only wanted to date at first, so now it’s only fair that they only fuck. Fair is fair, Erik agrees as takes another bite of his scramble, his eyes growing dark as he watches Charles from across the table.

The rest of the day is spent in bed, although they do managed to finally fuck on the couch one time, after breakfast, Charles bent over its back as Erik pounds into him, only marginally concerned about damaging the Italian leather. Charles blames it on the damn yoga pants that are now down around Erik’s ankles. Erik counters that Charles mouth really should be less enticing while eating a scramble.

They don’t fuck every minute of the entire day. Charles isn’t 18 after all and he needs to have some recovery time, and it seems that Erik might have a thing for cuddling. At one point Charles finds himself sitting in bed next to Erik, who is absorbed in a book he pulled from his bag earlier.

“Are you seriously reading Les Miserables?” Charles asks, glancing over at him.

“Mmmmm hmmmm.” Erik hums, his tone indicating that he’s not entirely paying attention.

“Does that mind of yours ever stop,” asks Charles, feeling a little self conscious that as soon as he’s done with the last book in the Divergent series, he has a copy of Fault in Our Stars waiting for him.

“Not really,” Erik answers, still looking at his book. Charles moves his hand to stroke along Erik’s thigh.

“Can I distract you,” Charles asks. Erik turns his head to look at him then leans over to put his book on the night stand.

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing by chattering away?” he asks.

It turns out that Charles’ fingers on Erik’s skin hold more allure than Victor Hugo and epic French literature. Charles is glad for this.

When the sun dips below the horizon and the city starts to light up, Charles finds himself sitting in his living room staring out the windows but seeing nothing of the view. Erik is busy in the kitchen putting together something for dinner so he’s not witness to the sudden melancholy that overcomes Charles. Tomorrow is their last day, and it’s not even a full day. Erik will leave in the afternoon, back to Dublin, and all of this...this, dare he call it happiness, will be over. The thought makes Charles ache and he closes his hand into a fist, willing the tears he feels welling up to go away and never bother him again.

Erik hasn’t said anything about leaving. It’s like he’s determined to be in the moment and never think of the future, and Charles thinks this is good, because he hates that tomorrow Erik will be gone from his life, and he almost laughs to think that all he’d ever wanted was a hot fuck, and he ended up with something entirely different.

They eat in silence, Charles sprearing the salad Erik has thrown together, and he barely tastes his food. When they are done, Erik stands up and walks over to stand besides Charles, putting out his hand. Charles takes it and lets Erik pull him up to a stand, liking how strong the other man is, and he lets himself be led towards the bedroom.

They fuck, but this time it’s painfully slow and bittersweet. Erik seems like he’s determined to memorize every moment, and once as he’s kissing Charles in a easy, languid fashion, tasting his mouth, pulling on his lips with his teeth, Erik pulls back and stares into Charles’ eyes. “I…,” Erik starts, his pupils blown wide with desire and something else Charles can't quite discern, his hair tousled from Charles running his fingers through it. Erik's mouth twitches and Charles can tell he wants to say something, but it just can’t come out. Charles reaches up to stroke Erik’s forehead, hoping to ease some of the tension that has suddenly sprung up.

“What is it?” Charles whispers, “You can tell me.” Erik shakes his head, his eyes growing glassy as he continues to stare down at Charles.

“It’s just that…” Erik starts again, then stops. “that...I’m going to miss this.”

Charles dies with Erik’s words and he wants to badly to tell him he feels the same way but the words just aren’t there, so he pulls him closer and nips at his shoulder and tells him he wants him inside him now. Charles can say with his body the things he’s not able to put into words.

Morning comes too soon. They stay in bed as long as possible until Erik untangles himself and says he needs to take a shower. Charles watches him walk to the bathroom, memorizing Erik’s entirely gorgeous, lickable ass, and yes, he had entirely laved it with his tongue at one point last night. Erik packs his clothes into his suitcase, folding each piece carefully, and Charles is struck with regret that he doesn’t have something he can give Erik, something to remember him by. He’s not very good at this relationship thing, if that’s what you can even call what they’re doing.

Finally Erik is ready to go. He calls for a cab then he pushes Charles against the wall of the hallway by the front door and kisses him, then kisses him again and again, over and over, until Charles feels that now familiar spinning sensation, kisses him like he never wants to stop. The intercom buzzes and Erik pulls back placing one last kiss on Charles swollen lips. Charles wants Erik to say something, to say he doesn’t want to go, because if he does, that will be enough for Charles to throw his arms around him and beg him desperately to stay, to never leave him, because he care barely admit it to himself but losing Erik to Dublin is killing him. Instead Erik just says his cab as arrive and Charles nods. Of course. Then Erik is walking out the door, shutting it behind him and Charles is left all alone. He feels what he thinks might be a sob growing in his chest as he slowly slides down the wall to crouch in his entryway hallway. He pulls out his phone gazing at the phone and wishing that Erik had decided to cheesily text him from the cab on the way to the airport, but the phone is blank. He quickly sends a text to Raven.

-he’s gone.

A few seconds later he hears the familiar sound of Raven responding. He turns his phone over and reads her response.

-you’re a fucking idiot


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a sister as awesome as Raven. Raven is a terrible driver.

Charles is still crouched staring at his phone when his sister's face appears on the screen announcing her phone call. Apparently Raven has more to say and it can't be conveyed via text.

"Raven," Charles says tiredly, answering her call.

"Good god, you sound wrecked!"

"Do I?" He thinks that he sounds tired and maybe sad, but wrecked? Is it that bad?

"You didn't ask him to stay." Raven says, and it's a statement, not a question.

"Was I supposed to?" asks Charles and he's rewarded with an exasperated sound from the other end of the line.

"Seriously, brother, for someone as smart as you are, you can be so fucking CLUELESS."

"He never said anything." Charles says weakly. If only he'd said something.

"Jesus Christ Charles, I can see why you don't like to date. You're terrible at it. Erik's been saying it to you from the beginning, with shocking single mindedness. He's not the one who needed to say something."

"But we want different things," Charles stammers. He can almost hear Raven’s eyes roll.

"Listen Mr. Fuck-and-Run with all your liberated contemporary gay man values, which I suspect is just a complex way you've developed to keep yourself from getting hurt, and have lots of sex in the meantime. When I said you wanted to gay marry this man and have his gay babies, I wasn't kidding. You may not realize it yet but I'm right. You both want the same thing, but until you get that through your thick boy-genius skull, you should at least try to get Erik to stick around a little longer. He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time, if ever."

"Oh," says Charles, starting to see what Raven is trying to tell him.

"And you let him leave without giving him the answer to the question he's been asking you all along. Seriously Charles, are you entirely blind. I could see what was going on between you two."

"Oh shit." Charles says as he starts to understand that he'd held the power to make Erik stay the entire time and instead he second guessed himself and remained silent and now...now... "He's gone." Suddenly the deep anguish he's been ignoring pushes through to the surface and Charles can't even stop to consider why this hurts so bad but it does. "I let him go."

"Oh, Charles." Raven sighs heavily, "I'm so sorry, even if you are an idiot."

So is Charles. He's sorry and hopeless and his sister was entirely right. He's a first class idiot. They sit in silence and Charles feels tears start to roll down his cheeks. Dammit. How did this happen when all he wanted was a nice piece of ass and now he’s crying in the hallway of his apartment as his sister tells him that Erik has left because of him.

"Wait!" Raven says suddenly, her voice changing from empathetic to hopeful, "I'm sure Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick hasn't left the country yet!"

"His flight is this evening." Charles says blandly.

"And you're still prescreened from your trip to Oxford a few months ago, right."

"I'm pretty sure it hasn't expired," Charles says carefully, starting to see where Raven is going with her train of thinking.

"Well, grab your passport and your trust-fund-kid credit card, I'll be by to pick you up on five minutes. There's still time!"

Where Charles had been feeling deeply devastated moments before, hope now starts to well up. He’s going to go try to make this right. Charles smiles and wonders who is the genius in the family. He may be book smart but Raven is way more intelligent when it comes to affairs of the heart.

"I love you, Raven." Charles says,

"Save it for Erik," she snaps and before Charles can protest, Raven has hung up.

True to her word, Raven's bright blue custom Fiat screeches up to the curb outside his apartment building five minutes later, stopping where Charles is standing, clutching his passport. After Raven hung up he had grabbed the passport from his dresser, glanced at himself in the mirror, fixed his hair quickly, ran downstairs and has been standing on the curb with his heart in his throat. She leans over, opening the passenger door and gestures for him to get in. Charles sees her hair is sticking up everywhere and he knows his love life interrupted her working on one of her sculptures. Her eyes are a little wild and Charles remembers why he likes to take cabs everywhere and avoid riding with Raven like the plague. He straps himself in and she nods, then takes off, tires screeching.

"He's going to London, right," Raven yells as Charles uses his phone to try to figure out which flight Erik will be on, his fingers trembling, and he's surprised he can accomplish anything. She swerves around a car she thinks is going to slow then hits the accelerator hard, pushing Charles back into the soft leather seat and causing him to once again praise whoever invented seat belts.

"London then Dublin, I think."

"Get a two way ticket to London on whatever flight you can. If you can't find him here, you can try to intercept him there."

"And if I can't find him in London?"

"Go to Dublin." Raven says, grinning. "You have to do this, big brother. He's the best chance of a decent relationship you've ever had."

Charles finds a flight to London that has a seat available but it leaves a couple hours after the flight Erik is supposed to be on. He pulls out his credit card and books it as Raven continues to weave in and out of traffic. She speeds towards the exit to the airport only to find herself slowed by the crush of travelers who are also trying to make their flights and her pace slows to a crawl. Finally the terminal is in sight and Raven turns to Charles.

"I love you, big brother. Now get out and run."

Charles leaps out of the car and runs down the sidewalk towards the terminal building as Raven cheers him with a loud, "GO GET HIM!". Charles ducks through some sliding doors and glances around the terminal until he sees the name of the airline his ticket is for, then runs toward it. He stops at the kiosk to print out his boarding pass, cursing how slow it goes, then dashes to the line to the terminal for the international flights. Finally he comes to a halt in the line for prescreened passengers, out of breath. He glances up at the clock on the wall. One more hour until Erik is supposed to board.

Doubt starts to course through his mind. What if Erik was able to get on an earlier flight. What he's not waiting at the gate and they miss each other. What if he actually doesn’t want to stay and has changed his mind and Raven is wrong. What if he’s guessed the wrong flight. What if…

The line through inspection feels like it’s crawling, although it actually moves faster than folks who aren’t prescreened. This time of day the airport is mostly full of business travelers, pulling their rolling carry-ons behind them, dressed in smart black suits, staring at their phones as the inch forward. Charles goes through inspections, and after about the fourth time he’s asked, he tells whoever it is that has noted that he doesn’t have a carry-on that, christ-on-a-cracker, he just travels light. After a nerve-wracking moment where he thinks they’re going to pull him over for further inspection, Charles is through security and the international concourse stretches out before him. Charles goes to the departure boards and scans until he sees the flight he thinks Erik is on listed, and of course it’s the gate on the other end of the concourse, and despite his aching muscles, Charles takes off running again. He pounds down the shining linoleum floor, watching the gates tick by until he gets closer, only a few more gates, then he slows to a brisk walk. Finally he arrives at the gate he thinks Erik will be at, and the flight listed says London, so Charles glances around, turns, glances around some more, feeling frantic and just a little bit scared, and then he sees him.

_Erik._

He’s sitting in one of the sets of chairs that looks out over the runways, and from where Charles stands, he can see his chiseled profile, his mouth set in a grim line, and for what feels like an eternity Charles just takes him in. He’s wearing the same turtleneck he’d left in, and why does Charles find this remarkable, it’s not like Erik would have changed, but Erik in a turtleneck is something remarkable in itself. His hands are fiddling in his lap, and he’s looking off into the distance like he has a lot on his mind, and he looks so handsome and so sad that it hurts. Charles feels his heart swell, and maybe Raven is right. Maybe he does want to gay-marry this man. In the least, he now knows he wants some more time, really needs more time. _Please say you'll give me more time._ Charles moves forward, walking towards where Erik is sitting, his pace slow and deliberate, as if Erik might frighten like a deer if he notices that Charles is approaching. When he is only a few feet away, Charles manages to speak, and his voice sounds hoarse and raw.

“Erik.”

Erik’s head whips around and jaw goes slack, and for a brief second he looks like he doesn’t really believe what he’s seeing, like seeing Charles is entirely unexpected and might not be real but a hallucination come to haunt him. Erik makes a move as if he’s going to stand up but Charles rushes around the chairs to stand in front of him, then he sinks onto one knee in front of the taller man, who his still looking at him like he can’t believe he’s there and he takes one of Erik’s big, square hands in his, looking up into his face. For a moment neither of them speak, their eyes locked, and all the fear-love-sadness that’s been pent up inside Charles travels between them.

“Charles!” Erik says, as if he’s suddenly found his voice, “What are you doing here?” Erik’s hand tremors as Charles holds it.

“I want you to stay,” Charles says quickly, and everything he wants is contained in that one sentence. “I am a giant idiot, as Raven has fully explained to me, and I don’t want this...us...to end. I want to give it a chance, to find out if this is something that can work long-term. I want you to stay.”

“Charles,” Erik gasps, and Charles can see that his grey-green eyes, the ones that had so captivated him that fateful night at book club, are glassy with tears. “I can’t.”

Charles slumps. It’s what he’s been secretly afraid of all along. If he asks Erik to stay, Erik can say yes, or he can say no, and it seems that Erik is saying no. Raven was wrong, Charles was wrong. There is nothing between them. He’s such an idiot. He looks away from Erik, wanting to look at anything but the man who is rejecting him, finding a spot of patterned carpet to focus on, biting his lip as his chest clenches tight. He’s still holding Erik’s hand and he just can’t let go, not quite yet, because that will mean it’s all over.

“Mein gott, No,” Erik says forcefully as he realizes what Charles thinks, “I don’t mean I can’t come back. I mean I just can’t stay right now, but I don’t have to remain in Dublin. I can come back. Charles. Look at me.” Erik takes his free hand and runs his thumb along Charles’ jaw, forcing Charles to turn his face back to him, “I can come back. I will come back. This is what I want, and if you want it too, oh god, if you want it, then I’ll come back. Nothing will keep me away.”

In one swift movement Charles lets go of Erik’s hand as both men come to their feet, then Erik is wrapping his arms around Charles and they are kissing, frantically, urgently, not caring that they are in the middle of the terminal. It’s wet and sloppy and so beautiful that Charles thinks he might break. Charles is whispering that he’s sorry, so sorry, between kisses that are now salty from tears. Erik pushes away, leans his forehead down onto Charles’ and laughs.

“I can’t believe this,” Erik whispers, sounding almost giddy and very much not like Erik, “I thought I was leaving you forever.”

“I was stupid,” Charles says, “I don’t even know how to explain it. I just didn’t see that what I wanted, have always wanted, was right in front of me.”

“And now?” Erik asks.

“It’s you. It’s been you since that night at book club. I’m just an idiot.”

“You are,” Erik agrees, “but at least you’re my idiot and not someone else’s. I thought I was going to die, leaving you this morning.”

“Hey,” Charles says suddenly as something occurs to him, “I have a ticket to London. If you’re leaving, I can just come with you.”

“Seriously?” Eriks says, gazing at Charles, rubbing his hands up and down his back, and if he can’t believe he’s really there. “You’d come with me?”

“Yeah. I’ll see if Moira can take my classes. I’ll call in sick. I can’t stay very long, but I can go to Dublin with you. See where you live. Then we can have a proper goodbye.”

“We’ve been having our proper goodbye,” Erik murmurs huskily, “I think we actually need a proper hello now.”

Charles laughs. Erik is right. They’ve been saying goodbye since they met. Now they can be together with the future ahead of them.

“I’ll have to buy some clothes,” Charles says, “but I did bring the trust-fund-kid credit card.”

“Trust fund?” Eriks says, raising an eyebrow.

“We have a lot more to talk about,” Charles says quickly, not wanting to immediately delve into his family’s generous finances, since that information has a way of scaring people at times, “if I can manage to keep my hands off you. By the way, Raven said to say hello and she thinks we should get gay-married.”

“Wait,” Erik says, looking at Charles with suspicious eyes, searching his face, “do you want to get married?”

Charles doesn’t answer right away but just stays there, staring up at Erik, thinking about what it would mean to have him in his life forever, to have the commitment of forever between them, and for the first time in his life, the idea doesn’t entirely repulse him.

“I’m not saying yes,” Charles says finally, a small smile on his lips, “but I’m not saying no either. That’s all I can offer right now.”

Erik smiles, that big huge smile full of teeth that Charles has come to realize means he’s happy and he leans down to place a short, sweet kiss on Charles’ lips.

“That’s enough for right now,” Erik says softly. “That’s all I really need.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik return to book club

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I am done, minus the epilogue. Thanks for reading. Please comment if you're so moved.

Charles walks down the worn carpet of the hallway towards number 608, his dog eared copy of Fault of our Stars tucked into his satchel. When he gets to Moira’s door, he lifts his hand and knocks, a short, jolly sort of rapping that announces that the youngest, most British-ish member of the faculty has arrived. The door swings open and Moira McTaggart is standing there, holding a glass of wine, a smile on her face that quickly morphs into a look of surprise.

“Erik Lehnsherr,” Moira gasps, “you turned down our offer of a position. What are you doing here? And with Charles?"

“Chips and dip?” Charles says jauntily, sounding delighted at having suprised Moira, holding out a crinkling bag that Moira has no choice but to take from him. He then winds an arm around Erik’s waist and nuzzles into the other man’s side, looking up and throwing Erik a satisfied smile. "Erik is here as my guest. We're uh, well he and I, he's my..."

Lover, paramour, fuck buddy...

"Boyfriend," Erik provides helpfully and a bit smugly, “I thought it best I not work at the same place Charles does,” Erik says, following Moira into the apartment. “So I turned you down.”

“Oh.” Moira says, still looking a tad surprised at this sudden turn of events. Hadn’t it just been two book clubs before that Erik was visiting, and now he’s here WITH Charles, and she looks ever so slightly confused as she throws the bag of chips on the snack table. Hank is standing next to the table wearing their YAF book club t-shirt and Charles can see that he’s brought those puff pastry things again, and he MUST get the recipe this time.

“Nice t-shirt,” Erik says as they pass by and Hank looks like he’s about to choke on the carrot stick he’s been munching on.

“We missed you at the last book club,” Moira says as she escorts the two men into the living room.

“I was in Dublin,” Charles says cheerily, as if being in Dublin is an everyday occurrence for him, just like showing up on the arm of one very tall, handsome man in a turtleneck at book club might be, and Charles is terribly pleased that Erik decided to wear the turtleneck tonight. Charles has taken to calling it The Fuck Me Turtleneck because it’s the most covering piece of clothing Erik owns yet it somehow seems to drive Charles absolutely crazy with lust whenever he wears it. At some point Erik had called him into the bedroom, their bedroom, and he was sprawled on the bed, legs sprawled apart in an entirely depraved manner, his cock lying thickly on this thigh, half hard, wearing only The Fuck Me Turtleneck and Charles had managed to actually laugh before he essentially leaped on him. Erik tells him it might be a problem that he owns about ten of them, and Charles tells him that it certainly will NOT be a problem.

“You know,” Charles leans toward Erik and whispers once they are settled on Moira's couch, “the last time we were here together, I did a lot of thinking about fucking you.” This earns him a sideways glance from the man sitting next to him, who smell amazing as always, and Charles thinks maybe they should have skipped this altogether.

It had been Erik who insisted on going, telling Charles that it was where they met, and Charles had poked a finger into his ribs and told him for all his German sternness, Erik Lehnsherr is actually a big fluffy romantic.

“But no cheese plate,” Erik had said standing in the kitchen, _their kitchen_ , “cheese plates get people into trouble.”

“No cheese plate,” Charles had agreed.

“Charles Xavier,” Erik whispers back, shifting in a manner that tells Charles that Erik likes this revelation, “you are a bit of a slut.”

“I really prefer to think I’m just a tad easy,” Charles smiles back, pretending to be slightly offended. “Anyway, I thought about fucking in the bathroom first.”

“Mein gott, Charles” Erik whispers, and Charles has discovered that this is usually what comes out of Erik’s mouth when he’s both scandalized and turned on. Charles has found that despite Erik being vastly experienced in the art of sex, he is also easily embarrassed, although he's always a good sport, and puts up with Charles’ dirty shenanigans and penchant for a hand job in public.

“But then I decided that would be rude and we should fuck in the closet.”

Erik clears his throat and shifts some more, "Rude. Right."

“And the alleyway.”

“You were feeling very creative that night, I think.”

“You were looking very sexy. What else was I supposed to do?” Charles continues, adding “and then there was when I wanted to fuck you in the elevator.”

“Well, that one was somewhat obvious,” Erik says quietly, remembering their first kiss and Charles can almost feel the way Erik had slammed him against the elevator wall.

“And then you said no to me.” Charles says.

“I did say no,” Erik says sounding amused. “that wasn’t an easy thing to do. You were looking especially delicious and fuckable at that moment.”

Moira rings the bell to start book club causing Charles and Erik to shift their attention to the topic at hand. This time Charles can discuss the book without having to plan a seduction at the same time and he’s surprised to find that Erik, Mr. Classic French Literature, has some very interesting insights. Instead of biting his lip, Charles can absently run his hand up and down Erik’s thigh. It’s all very nice.

Erik is almost moved in. The last shipment of his stuff should arrive from Dublin next week. Charles is surprised how little Erik brings with him and his things end up blending nicely into Charles’ apartment. What neither of them really know what to do with is their books and Erik teases that maybe Charles should consider getting a Kindle.

Raven is there when Charles gets back from Dublin, throwing her arms around him and telling him she’s so happy everything worked out, and she left his mail piled on the table. When Erik arrives a week later, Raven throws her arms around him and tells him she’s going to love having another brother. Charles laughs at the look of fear on Erik’s face and later he tells him that Raven wasn’t kidding about them getting gay-married. Erik says he finds Raven’s enthusiasm for them charming. She's their biggest fan.

Soon it’s break time at book club and Charles and Erik wander over to the snack table, filling flimsy paper plates with little bits of food. Erik places a hand on Charles’ back, resting it softly, and when they’re together there’s rarely a time Erik isn’t touching Charles in some manner, keeping them connected, as if he’s still not entirely sure Charles is really there. Charles likes this, likes feeling that he’s more than just himself in the world, and he often finds himself leaning into the touch or nuzzling Erik at inopportune times, because he likes the feel of the other man so close to him.

A moment later Erik makes book club much more interesting.

“Do you have a condom and lube?” Erik says, leaning down to whisper into Charles ear, and Charles feels himself go still and his cock starts to tingle. Maybe book club will be short two participants after the break yet again.

“Yes,” Charles replies.

“Good,” Erik answers."Do you have enough lube and are you willing to prepare yourself?  I don't want to hold up the elevator too long."

Good god, it takes every ounce of willpower Charles has not to push Erik back onto the snack table and have his way with him, guaranteeing he'll never be invited back again. Erik has this way of making these requests in such an self effacing, entirely practical manner combined with just a tinge of shyness, and it’s so hot and sweet all mixed together and sometimes Charles wonders where Erik Lehnsherr has been all his life.

He tells Erik this one night, as they lie together, legs tangled, sweaty and covered in come but neither wanting to move, Charles playing with the the fine hairs on Erik’s arm. “I wish I’d met you five years ago.”

He felt Erik tense up a little behind him, and Charles wonders if he'd said something wrong.

“No you don't,” Erik answers. “I was pretty fucked up. Sebastian left me messed up, and I don’t think things would have turned out quite like they have. Everything is exactly how it’s supposed to be.

Charles' mind comes back to the current question at hand, which involves lube and fingering himself, in Moira's bathroom for godsake.

“Yes, I can do that,” Charles says, then he adds, in a very low whisper, "anyway, I know where Moira keeps her lube. I won't have to waste mine."

"Really." Erik says, eyebrows arched, the look on his face indicating he doesn't quite know what to do with this information.

"I'm a snoop." Charles says as way of explanation.

Charles and Erik say a polite goodbye to Moira, and apologize that they have to leave, but they both have a long day tomorrow, and Moira mutters something about this becoming a bit of a trend. Erik smiles at her, his most charming smile, and Charles see Moira relax a little, and then she even bats her eyes a bit, and he laughs to himself. Then Erik heads out to the hallway and Charles excuses himself to the bathroom.

Moira’s lube is exactly where Charles remembers it, and he thinks that woman really needs some more action. It’s some nice, organic stuff and Charles likes the way it feels and thinks he should remember the brand. Anyway, he hopes Erik is grateful for the things he’ll do for him, because once he’s slicked up his fingers and pulled down his jeans and underwear, Charles reaches behind himself and pushes first one finger, then another, into his ass. In his colleague’s bathroom. All for a fuck in the elevator. Seriously.

By the time Charles arrives in the hallway where Erik is standing, waiting, hands shoved into the pockets of his long wool coat, he can tell that Erik has been missing him because he flashes him that same toothy grin he did the first time there were in this spot together. Then it quickly turns tight as Erik’s looks Charles up and down.

“Mein gott, Charles. You look half fucked already.” Charles bites his lip. Erik moans softly, almost inaudibly. “and your mouth, it’s so delectable.”

Charles moves to stand close to Erik, leaning on him and says, very quietly, only for Erik’s ears, “You know what’s delectable? Your rather large cock fucking my delectable mouth.” And this rewards Charles with a sharp intake of breath.

The elevator arrives, doors sliding open, and they both step inside. As soon as the doors slide shut and the elevator starts moving, Erik lunges to pull the stop button then he’s pushing Charles backwards toward the elevator wall while devouring his mouth. Charles hands are fumbling at Erik’s belt, then his tailored wool slacks, pushing them down as fast as he can, and he can see that Erik’s cock is hard and leaking because it’s tenting his underwear and there’s a little wet spot. He pulls them down too then sinks to his knees. In one swift movement Charles takes Erik's cock deep in his mouth, and Erik lets out a string of German and Charles can’t help but feel pleased because he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten Erik to the point of spewing out German quite this fast before. Charles gazes up at Erik then grabs his hand and places it on his head to steady it, then Erik groans and his hips start pumping forward as he does indeed, as Charles had suggested just minutes ago, start to fuck his mouth. Charles keeps his eyes upward, his gaze never wavering, watching Erik’s face contort in pleasure, listening to his moans, and he’s getting so hard, and he really wants to touch himself. Then Erik pull out of his mouth and reaches down to pull Charles up to a stand, and Charles knows what’s coming next, so he takes a shaking hand and works the button of his jeans open, then shoves them, along with his underwear down. His cock springs forward, thick and flushed, and he turns around to face the elevator wall, shoving his ass out as enticingly as he possibly can. He hears the crinkle of a condom being opened, then Erik’s weight is along his back and he’s muttering into Charles’ ear as he slides inside him.

“You did a nice job preparing yourself.”

“I enjoyed it,” Charles gasps as Erik starts pumping, then buries his face in the back of Charles neck, gasping a little. Erik stays like that as his hips start to drive into Charles, one hand bracing against the wall of the elevator, then the other hand comes up and grabs Charles’ hair, pulling his head back, and Erik’s weight is even heavier on his back, pinning Charles to the wall, and Charles turns his head because he knows what Erik wants, and their mouths collide in a wet, sloppy, unsophisticated, never-ending kiss. There is nothing soft or gentle about this. It’s the fuck in the elevator that Charles had longed for the first time he’d met Erik. It’s hotter than hell, and Charles slips his hand down to grab his cock and jerk himself off in time to the slam of Erik’s hips against his ass. Erik mutters he’s about to come, then he is coming with a muffled shout, his mouth still on Charles’, his body twitching violently as Erik grapples for control. Erik lets go of Charles’ hair, burying his head into the back of Charles’ neck once again. His free hand now slips downward to join the one Charles has wrapped around his own cock and they pump together, in a jagged, dirty rhythm, until Charles feels his cock start to pulse and he’s coming all over their joined hands.

“Good god, Erik” Charles groans and before he’s entirely realized what he’s saying, he adds, “I think I might love you.”

Erik grows still upon hearing Charles' words, right in the middle of handing a fucking wet-wipe to Charles, and how fucking prepared IS this man, and Charles starts to suspect Erik had some ulterior motives behind his insistence on attending book club. Erik looks at Charles almost quizzically.

“Really?” Erik says, his eyes searching Charles' face. “Do you mean that?”

It wasn’t entirely how Charles has planned to say those words. He’s not sure he’s ever planned to say those words at all, but if he did, it would be over a nice dinner and not after a dirty fuck in an elevator. But somehow they have slipped out, and even if he could take them back, damnnit, Charles doesn't want to. As Erik watches him with guarded eyes, Charles answers in the only way he can.

“Yes,” he says. It’s the truth. He loves Erik Lehnsherr, and now that he can say it to himself, he has the sudden urge to run to the rooftops and sing it over the city in the style of a classic musical, complete with a jaunty, happy dance. He thinks that Erik could add musicals to the list of the things that he has determined make Charles what he calls, So Very Gay. He loves musicals. And he loves Erik Lehnsherr, which might be the gayest thing Charles Xavier could ever do.

If Charles thought Erik looked entirely undone while fucking him in an elevator, he was wrong, because now the man actually does look Entirely Undone in a way that Charles has never seen before. His face is filled with awe and wonder and, dare Charles say it, love. Then Erik is reaching for him, pulling him into his arms before either of them are entirely dressed, and he’s stroking his hair, muttering things Charles can’t quite understand, except for ‘my love’.

“We need to give them back their elevator,” Charles whispers, not wanting to let Erik go either, but much longer and someone will call the fire department and find two half clothed men embracing and crying, and no one will know what to do with that.

“Okay,” Erik says, pulling away, smoothing down his turtleneck, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and they finish getting their clothes back into place then push the button to make the elevator start moving again.“So,” Charles says, glancing over at Erik, “does your reaction mean you love me too?”

“Mein gott, Charles,” Erik says, pulling the smaller man hard against his side, “I’ve loved you since the moment I opened Moira’s door and you were there with that damn cheese plate.”

“Seriously?” Charles asks.

“Seriously,” Erik echoes.

“And you think I’m easy,” Charles says, his lips twitching into a smile. "It seems I had you entirely with just a cheese plate."

He puts his arms around Erik’s waist and they walk out into the lobby and towards the street, and Charles thinks that this is all well and good, and what an amazing world they live in where going to book club one night can change your entire life.


	9. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two years later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an epilogue. I swear that I'm done with this part for now, but I might attack a little Erik POV prequel that I have bouncing around in my head.

Charles and Erik get married.

It doesn't come about how Charles expected it to. He had always figured that Erik would ask him on bended knee about ten times and Charles would always respond "no" until about the eleventh or twelfth, when he would finally say "yes" and they would be SO terribly happy.

Erik ruins this plan by never asking. This leaves Charles somewhat miffed because he had been practicing saying "yes" in the mirror, but he can’t say ‘yes’ if no one is asking the question in the first place.

Erik finishes writing his book and it's published to mostly good reviews. Well, as good of reviews as a tome exploring French post structuralism can get. Charles keeps teaching at his small university, telling Erik he's a chronic underachiever and is very happy leading undergraduates through the twists and turns of Shakespeare every year, and he attends book club every month, although never again with Erik in tow. That's too dangerous. To everyone in the department they become CharlesandErik, and Erik bringing Charles lunch becomes a regular occurrence. They still eat on Their Bench, but now they hold hands and sometimes steal kisses, no need to maintain strict decorum. They go to department holiday parties together and the faculty Friendsgiving at Moira's where Charles notes her lube seems to have been moved. When he tells Erik this he's rewarded with a wicked grin then declared to be a terrible snoop. Erik's friend Sean comes to visit and they show him around the city, and at the end of the visit Sean slaps Erik on the back and says he can see he's really happy, then says something about footballers and their arses that Charles chooses to ignore. 

It's been two years. Charles can't believe this because in the past he's rarely made it past two months with practically any relationship. Instead of weeks, he's able to count his time with Erik by months and seasons and holidays and birthdays, and this thrills him in a way he's not always entirely willing to explore.

The proposal happens entirely by accident on a lazy Sunday morning.

They are sitting in bed, Erik reading a book. It’s one if the five he keeps perpetually piled on his nightstand, sitting on top of the Kindle Charles had given him for Christmas that's now collecting dust, and Charles finds Erik's devotion to the archaic medium of paper both charming and cluttering. Erik is wearing the reading glasses Charles had discovered he needs to see fine print early in their relationship, and Charles finds them very sexy. Even better, he finds that if he mentions that needing reading glasses is a sign of getting old he'll be rewarded with a look of consternation and a "Verdammt, Charles, I'm only 37."

Charles is hovering between sleep and boredom as they lie in bed. He's been doing his best to distract Erik for the last half hour by running the ball of his foot up Erik's calf, but even his best effort is pretty half assed and he's been rewarded with only a half grunt from Erik, who appears to be annoyingly determined to actually read.

Charles thinks maybe his efforts would be more welcome if he were naked but he's feeling too lazy and content to make the effort to pull off his baggy pajama bottoms and rut against Erik, so he abandons his efforts and lies back in the very comfortable, generous pile of pillows that he insists on having cluttering their bed. While Erik tends towards utilitarianism, Charles is all about comfort. After letting his mind wander to his upcoming lecture series and what to have for dinner, he thinks about his sister and something she said what feels like a lifetime ago. He rolls over towards Erik, pushing his book out of the way and sprawls himself across his lovers chest, grinning mischievously. Erik looks over his glasses and down at Charles.

"Well, hello." Erik says, his tone amused, and maybe Charles foot rubbing his calf had been more effective than he realized, because he now can feel that Erik is half hard. Charles ignores the way Erik’s cock is calling to him, reaches up and takes off those damn sexy reading glasses, placing them on the night stand. He feels Erik shift incrementally underneath him, obviously thinking he knows where this is heading.

"You know," Charles says, gazing up at Erik, blinking his blue, blue eyes in a way he hopes is both innocent and seductive, "I think Raven was right."

Erik huffs out a little chuckle, "about what? Her theory about global warming or that eating is the next performance art?" he asks dryly. Charles knows despite Erik's tone, he adores Raven and the feeling is mutual, to the point that sometimes Charles feels like an outsider and teases Erik about stealing his sister. Erik once responds that he's never had a sister before and Charles doesn't tease after that. 

"No," Charles say, "about getting married. I think we should do it."

The mood in the room quickly shifts and Erik is suddenly very still, so still Charles doesn’t even think he’s breathing. He doesn’t say anything, just looks down at Charles with a look of surprise as Charles continues to grin back up at him. After a long period of silence, Erik takes a deep, shuddering breath and finds his voice.

“Seriously?” he asks Charles shakily. Suddenly Charles isn’t feeling so playful anymore, as if the enormity of what he’s saying starts to become apparent, and he keeps his eyes locked with Erik’s and nods his head.

“Yes.” Charles says quietly. He didn’t really mean for this to be an actual proposal, but from Erik’s reaction, it appears that it is, and suddenly Charles feels very serious about everything: what he’s saying and how he feels about this man. He wants to marry him, to stand up in front of everyone and tell the world that they belong to each other. Good god, how has his life come to this, from fucking around in bars to proposing in bed on a lazy Sunday morning somewhat by accident, but now entirely on purpose.

The mood shifts again, into something happy and giddy, and Erik is smiling and laughing and pulling Charles up his chest to kiss him, then kiss him again and again. Erik is so busy kissing him that it takes all of Charles effort to pull away and look the other man in the eyes, and get confirmation of what he suspects.

“So, you’re saying ‘yes’?” Charles manages to ask, and he’s rewarded with more kisses that are now salty with tears, and he’s struck once again that for how controlled Erik can be, so much emotion lurks beneath the surface and it takes very little for it to break through.

“Yes,” Erik says, gasping, “I would have married you the day after I met you, for godsake, Charles. I’ve always wanted this. I just didn’t know if you did.”

This is so very Erik: controlled and respectful and never pushing Charles with what Erik wants, holding back all of his intensity and desire until he knows it’s welcome. It thrills Charles to feel both deeply wanted, enough for Erik to want to marry him the moment he met him, yet respected enough for Erik to give Charles the time he needs to figure all of this out.

“Okay then,” Charles says, laughing, “I guess we’re getting gay-married.”

Erik harumphs at this, and Charles knows what’s coming before Erik launches into a diatribe that they are NOT getting gay-married but married, and it’s no different than what he and Magda had, or any other straight couple has had for centuries now, and it shouldn’t be treated differently, because it’s about equality, and all of this makes Charles smile, and then add impishly.

“And then we can gay-honeymoon and have loads of hot gay-sex.”

Erik smiles then arches an eyebrow at Charles and says, “Um, we already have lots of gay sex.”, and Charles crooks his eyebrow and thinks he might have a point. They’ll just have to work a little harder.

“I have to tell Raven,” Charles says, and this is something that deserves more than a text or even a phone call, so he launches Face Time on his phone and waits for Raven to pick up. Her face fills the screen and she looks bleary as she answers the call, then throws a hand over her eyes as she sees Charles and Erik on the screen, and Charles has forgotten that neither of them are wearing shirts.

“Good lord, are you BOTH naked,” Raven screeches, “Boundaries guys!”

Charles laughs. His sister’s hair has gone from blue to a bright red bob that’s usually slicked back against her head, but right now is sticking up every which way, which means she slept poorly or she slept very well because she had some company overnight. She’s traded in her blue Fiat for a snappy red one, because, she tells Charles, every trust fund kid should match their car to their hair. This causes him to roll his eyes. Charles hears Raven’s name rumbled from her bed, and it sounds familiar, and Charles’ eyes grow wide.

“Um, Raven, is that Hank?”

“I’m not discussing this right now,” Raven says smartly, a blush creeping up her cheeks. She and Hank had met at one of CharlesandErik’s parties and had hit it off, Hank asking Charles for Raven’s number the next day, but Charles didn’t realize it had progressed to the point of overnights.

“So,” Raven says, struggling to hold her phone and pull a ratty vintage Clash t-shirt over her head at the same time, and Charles realizes that his sister actually WAS naked, oh goodlord, “why bother me so early on a Sunday?”

“Well,” Charles starts, “We called you to tell you that you were right.”

“Really,” Raven snorts, “that’s what you wanted to tell me? I could have told you that. What, what pray tell, am I right about. Global warming? You fucking better not have bothered me to tell me I’m right about global warming.”

Charles shakes his head. No, not global warming. “Remember when you told me I was going to gay-marry Erik?”

Raven’s eyes grow wide and a huge smile starts to spread across her face, and then a loud squeal emits from her mouth, “ohhhhhhmygooooddddddd!,” and she throws down the phone, and then it's picked up and now Hank’s face is in the screen. His hair is sticking up on either side like the wolfs ears, and he’s saying congratulations guys and he’s wearing his book club t-shirt, and no, this isn’t awkward at all. Raven has leaped off the bed and is dancing around in her t-shirt and underwear so Hank has no choice but to hold the phone as she whoops and hollers in triumph.

“Erik! Erik!” Raven says as she returns to the screen again, “you’re really going to be my brother now,” and Erik rewards her with a grimace. “Oh, I’m so happy for you guys. I knew this would happen. I KNEW IT. You’re getting gay-married.”

“Married,” Erik mutters from besides Charles, “verdammt, we’re getting MARRIED.”

Raven says goodbye and tells them they probably want to get back to celebrating, wagging her eyebrows suggestively, causing Erik to blush a little, then they hang up and Charles nuzzles into the crook of Erik’s neck.

“I love you, you know.” Charles says, “more than I ever thought I would be allowed to love anyone.” He feels Erik hurumph a little at this, in his typical grumpy German manner.

“If anyone deserves to be loved, it’s you,” Erik answers. “I’m the one who got lucky.”

“Maybe,” Charles says, placing a kiss on Erik’s neck, feeling the other man shudder, “or maybe we were just waiting for each other all this time.” He places another soft kiss and is rewarded with another shudder.

“Thank you for asking me to marry you,” Erik says softly, his lips in Charles hair, his large hands cradling Charles ever so gently, and Charles feels surrounded by warmth and so incredibly loved that it takes his breath away. He pulls his face out of Erik’s neck and gazes into those amazing gray-green eyes, searching them and seeing everything he’s ever wanted answering back.

“Thank you for saying yes,” Charles whispers, straining forward to place a soft kiss on Erik’s very kissable mouth, then worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, and this time he’s rewarded with a shudder AND a groan. “Thank you for saying yes.”


End file.
